Monsters and Men
by RoyalBlue13
Summary: Mainly based on film with other influences. When Christine decides to save the Phantom from the mob, roping Raoul into it, the three of them (and a horse) have to survive a trip to America to avoid the law. That is, if Raoul and Erik can survive each other first. Not to mention, head gendarme Alastor Mauvais (OC) is on their tail the whole way. Some RC but mainly friendship story.
1. Mobs and Hard Decisions

**A/N: This is my first Phanfic. Sorry if there's any historical issues but I obviously wasn't born during the 1800s. This takes place right before the end of the film, Christine and Raoul have just left on the boat and the mob is coming for the Phantom. Also, the Opera is still on fire. It has some R/C (but I love E/C as well) but it's mainly a friendship story that's meant to be funny and serious all in one. Please enjoy…...Or I'll punjab you!**

Never had the Opera Populaire been so silent.

In all its years, the world-renowned opera house had stood as a monument of culture, of art, of music that brought people to tears and never seemed to stop even after the curtain was closed.

But now the music had finally ended.

Or rather, it was on fire. The entire opera house was being consumed in flames from the fallen chandelier. The audience had all rushed out of the exits. No one had died in the fire that was now pouring out the windows. The only people left other than Piangi's corpse- which still wore the Phantom's lasso- were Christine Daaé and the Viscount Raoul de Chagny -who were safe in a small boat, paddling away from the opera catacombs- the mob of people, and the Opera Ghost, all of which were underground.

The only sound was the crackle of fire as it ate away at the building. Never had the Opera Populaire been so silent. But deep down below, there were the yells and shouts of the mob as the furious people of the opera marched down the tunnels towards the catacombs. The group held torches, pitchforks, guns, swords, stones, anything they could find to make the Opera Ghost suffer. Leading the pack were Richard Firmin, Gilles Andre, and Carlotta Giudicelli.

"Monsieur Firmin?" asked one of the mob members over the noise, a stagehand who'd worked with Joseph Buquet.

"What?" he spat, tightening his grip on his rifle.

"What do you plan to do to the Phantom? When we find him, that is. Shoot him?"

Firmin stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to the young man behind him. "Have you not been present the last year?"

"Of course, sir, but-"

"This man has terrorized my opera house."

"Our opera house." Andre corrected, holding a torch.

"He's extorted money from us for months on end! He's ruined performance after performance, _murdered_ two people in cold blood, threatened us with everything line in the book, forced us to put on his play, and _now,"_ He was shouting so loud his voice carried all the way through the tunnels they'd just come from. "My entire investment is _engulfed in flames_ because of this, this _MONSTER! Andre and I are RUINED!"_ Firmin paused, catching his breath. "And here you stand, asking if I plan to simply _shoot_ the beast? Oh, no, young man. I plan on doing much more than that. We all are!"

"Yeah!" The mob echoed.

"We'll make this demon suffer twice the torture he gifted us!" he shouted.

"We'll hang him upside down until he's numb!" someone yelled.

"Beat him till he's black and blue!"

"Lock him in the smallest cage!"

"Starve it!"

"Crucify the demon!"

"We'll make 'im pay for what 'e did to my Piangi!" Carlotta piped. "We'll tie each limb to a 'orse and let them run till 'e's torn into pieces!"

"Let's make this Opera Ghost wish he were dead!" Andre yelled, raising the torch. And so they marched on, angered and empowered, towards the Phantom's lair.

* * *

Deep in the catacombs, past the misty lake, one more sound could be heard beyond the mob: Shattering glass.

The Phantom took another swing at the full-length mirror in front of him with the empty candelabra in his hands. Anger boiled his blood as the glass fell to the floor. He moved to the next one and did the same, furious thoughts clouding his mind. _You let her_ go! Why _did you_ release _her, you_ fool? _She was yours! She was going to give herself to you in order to save that_ boy _she thought she loved! But you let her_ GO! Another broken mirror. He moved to the last one, the one that would lead to his one way out of the catacombs and far from the mob he knew was coming. _And now she's_ gone! _Gone and left you behind!_ He raised the candelabra, preparing to strike. _You won't ever see Christine again! Never hear her sweet voice that brought you comfort in the darkness! The one you trained and nurtured for years! She's gone because you let her leave! WHY?_

The Phantom took a swing at the glass and...stopped. Right before it made contact with the mirror. His hands trembled and his knees shook. The candelabra fell from his hands and he went to his knees. Anger had become sadness. Emptiness. "...Because…" he told his reflection, his voice wavering. "...I didn't want her to be with me because she had to be. Not for the sake of her Viscount. I wanted her...wanted her to love me. To _want_ to be with me. When she...kissed me," he paused, smiling at the memory. But it turned to a long frown quickly. "...There was nothing there. I enjoyed it, reveled in it, but...she felt nothing. She didn't mean it. She only did it to save her precious patron. ...She could never love me.

"After all I've done, I was a fool to think she could. That anyone could. I'm a monster. A killer." Tears coming to his eyes, he looked at his hands. The hands that were red with the blood of Buquet and Piangi. "How could hands such as these even dream of touching someone as pure as Christine? It would taint her. Darken her. I didn't want that.

"She doesn't even care about me. Not at all. She's gone and left me for the mob. Abandoned me." He wiped his eyes and looked in the mirror again. "Well...what did you expect?" He got to his feet slowly and walked over to his music box. He took it in his hands and looked it over, again taking a seat. The monkey smiled at him with the same fake grin it always did. "The mob will be coming for me soon. What shall I do?" he asked it. No answer came. "I could hide. They may give up if they can't find me after a while. I could run through the mirror and take my chances outside the opera house." He stroked the monkey's face and shook his head. "No...none of those are good ideas. If the mob wants me...they may have me. It doesn't matter anymore...Nothing does." He looked towards the tunnels, the mob's shouts coming into earshot. "It's not like I've got anything to live for anyhow."

* * *

She tried her best to focus on the rowing. The steady sound of the paddle hitting the water. Raoul's strong shoulders under her hands. Anything other than what had just happened. But she could see the rope burns on Raoul's neck from the Phantom's noose.

"...Are you in pain?" she whispered, as if someone in the darkness may be listening.

"Not much. My neck is obviously sore and my body is exhausted, but really it's not horrible." Raoul told her, not missing a beat with the paddle.

"Those marks should heal in a few weeks' time...oh, Raoul, I was so frightened!" She hugged his back.

"It's alright, Christine." he told her, taking one hand off the paddle to hold hers. "It's over now. You're safe. We're safe. You can forget all that's happened tonight. The Phantom will never plague us again."

 _If that's is the case then why can I not stop thinking of him? Of the music lessons he gave me and the times he would sing to me from the shadows when I missed my father?_

 _… Where did everything go so wrong? I thought he was my friend. I thought I could trust him. Now he nearly murdered the man I love. He's killed two people. How can the man who sang to me and the man who made me choose between him and Raoul… be the same man? Everything is such a mess. Piangi and Buquet are dead, Raoul nearly died, I nearly married the Phantom, the Opera Populaire is destroyed, there's a mob coming to…_ The mob! She'd been so worried about Raoul and having to choose between her life and his, she'd forgotten the pending mob coming to kill the Phantom!

Her mind reeled. She felt like she should do something, but why? _This man has stalked you, lied to you, used you, and almost took away everything you've cared about! Whatever that mob does to him, he deserves-_

Her thoughts were broken… by an echoing scream from behind. _The Phantom._

The stage of _Don Juan Triumphant_ flooded back to her mind before she could stop it. She could feel his arms around her as he sang lightly in her ear.

 _"Say you'll share with me one love,_

 _One lifetime,_

 _Lead me, save me from my solitude._

 _Say you'll want me with you here,_

 _Beside you."_

 _His voice...it was as if he was_ begging me _to stay with him. And he was so gentle on the stage. I thought when he came out instead of Piangi, he was onto our plan and would be violent but...and then….I humiliated him._ She could see his face, his unmasked face in front of her. His eyes were so sad, so full of pain, so...lost. _He trusted me. He trusted me and I humiliated him in front of a full house. In_ his _opera. But...I trusted him, too! And look what's he's done! How can I save him after that?_

 _But he let you_ go, said a small voice in her head. _You were going to stay with him to save Raoul, but he let you leave. He gave you your life._

 _Now you have to save his. Even after everything, you owe him that much._

Another scream, louder, bone chilling! "Raoul," Christine began, squeezing his shoulder a little. "Raoul, we have to stop this. We have to...to save the Phantom." Those final words were hard, but true.

The paddling stopped. Slowly, he turned to face her with a baffled expression. "Christine…" He took her hands. "You're overly emotional. You've been through a lot. You're not thinking clearly."

The screaming was seeming endless now. "My mind might not be working right, but my _ears_ are! They're torturing him!"

"Christine, think what he's done to them! To you!"

"But that doesn't mean they can do that! Revenge doesn't do anything!"

"This man just kidnapped you and tried to kill me to make you his wife! And you want to _defend_ him?"

"He let us go! He didn't have to do that, Raoul! He was going to win, I was going to stay! He could've killed you anyway! But he didn't. He freed us. We can't let them do this to him. What if...what if there is a chance there is good in him? I used to think so. We owe him his life because he gave us ours."

"Christine-"

"Raoul," They locked eyes in a silent battle. "...Please." she begged. "I know it's crazy. I know he's done unspeakable things, and you have no reason to do him any sort of favor. But...but for years he was a friend to me. And he released us when he had nothing to gain from doing so. _Please,_ Raoul. What if there truly is something there worth saving? How can I simply leave him to such a horrid fate?"

Her fiance studied her for a moment. A sigh escaped him after a moment. "You are too good for this world, Christine," he told her. With that, he began to turn the boat around. Christine let out a thousand "thank you"s and "I love you"s.

"Don't thank me yet," Raoul said. "There is still a chance we are too late."


	2. End of Music, Beginning of Adventure

The end of Firmin's rifle whacked him in the head and the Phantom was both surprised and disappointed that it didn't make him lose consciousness. He couldn't wrap his head around how long the mob had been beating him like this, but it felt like forever. When they'd shown, he didn't fight. In fact, he'd walked up to them and said, "Do what you will. It doesn't matter anymore." And they had _welcomed_ the invitation. He couldn't get off the ground, not with so many people suddenly kicking and kneeing him in the stomach. All he could do was lie on his stomach and scream as they turned him black and blue. Carlotta had seized the opportunity and was now stomping on his back with one of her killer heels. "Zis! Is! For! Piangi! Monster!" she shouted with each stamp.

He couldn't take it anymore. There were so many people! He'd been beaten many times before but not by over twenty bodies! One of the stagehands threw a rock at his skull and he wanted _so badly_ to just black out. "S-Stop," he begged meekly. "Please...stop...I'll d-do anything." But it seemed that only made them angrier.

Finally, after about another ten minutes, Firmin shouted. At least, he thought that was Firmin. His vision was so blurred now he really couldn't tell who was who anymore. "Enough! Enough!" They looked at him, confused. "This isn't enough. It's too easy, too nice."

 _You call that "nice"?_

"We need to think of something else. Something that won't kill him, not yet, but will make him suffer."

Carlotta got a wicked grin on her face and looked at Firmin. "He took the man I loved. I think we should take away _his_ love."

"Miss Daaé has gone." Andre told her. For once, the Phantom was glad she'd left him.

"Then music!"

 _...No..._

"How do we take music from him?" asked one of the opera janitors.

"We break his hands and allow them to heal improperly! So he has no chance of ever playing or writing any more music!"

The Phantom's vision was able to make out the organ that was in the room. The keys would gather dust and it would fall out of tune. It would never be used again. He could almost cry.

"Then we slice his vocal chords so he can't sing!" Andre added.

"And since he zeems to _adore_ my singing," the furious diva snarled. "When all zis is done, we'll tie 'im up and I shall perform _every single opera_ until 'e ehzer becomes _mad_ or comes to _despise_ the music he once loved! Get me some songs! _Adesso!*_

"And a small knife to end his voice!"

"And a sledgehammer for his hands!"

Firmin seized the front of the Phantom's shirt and pulled him up a bit. "Which of these damned tunnels leads to a way out of the Opera Populaire? Answer honestly, for if I smell smoke, I'll come back and gut you like a fish!"

"T-the right one. It leads in-t-t-to town." His voice was barely a whisper. Firmin dropped him onto the floor and gave him another kick to the stomach. He turned away from him, facing the mob.

"He's not going anywhere. Bring any music you can find, write some if you must! Andre and I will secure the hammer and knife. If we use a sword it will kill him."

Tears were quietly coming now as he saw the blurs leave through the tunnel. He never thought they would do _this. Dear God,_ he thought. It was the first time he'd ever dared to pray. He never thought anyone would listen. _If there is a God, I know You must hate me, but_ please, PLEASE, _if they must torture me, let them do it some other way! Have them drown me on the lake, burn me alive, throw me to the dogs,_ ANYTHING _but this!_ He tried to get up, his arms shaking under him. It was no use, though. He was much too weak now. The Phantom collapsed back to the ground and finally lost consciousness.

 _*Adesso: Italian for "Now"_

* * *

Raoul was rowing as fast as he could, his arms aching. He'd already had to swim for his life in one of the Phantom's traps, then nearly had his life drained from him, and now _this._ Here was the Viscount, rushing to save the man who'd nearly killed him. But Christine, for whatever reason, wanted the Phantom to live. And he would do anything for Christine. Anything in the world.

The screaming stopped suddenly. Raoul froze and waited for a moment. All was quiet. He sighed and looked over his shoulder at his fiancé. "We're too late."

"Just because he's stopped yelling doesn't mean he's dead!" she protested. "It could be that he's blacked out, or that the mob has gone. Please, keep going. If he's dead, we'll see his body when we get there, but until then, we can't be sure. There could be a chance we could still save him. ...Please, Raoul."

The Viscount let out another exhausted sigh and kept on back into the tunnel. A few minutes later, they were back in the misty lake that stood guard to the Phantom's lair. _This is foolish,_ he thought. _Even if he_ is _still alive, nothing we do will change him. What is she thinking? That he'll just shake our hands in gratitude, say "Thanks for saving me, it means a lot" and be on his way?! He'll most likely attack me again if he possesses the strength, or try to get Christine._ He glanced at the sword at his side.

The boat came to the shore and the second it stopped, Christine bolted out of it. "Christine!" Raoul ran after her and seized her arm. "You can't just go rushing in there! The mob may still be around and if they find us, we'll be in just as much trouble as the Phantom. Speaking of which, for all we know, he could be lurking around here still."

"He would've heard the boat." she told him, pulling her arm from him. "Something's very wrong, Raoul. I can feel it. We must find him."

Raoul drew the sword. _Just in case,_ he thought. In case of what, he didn't know. They walked around, quietly, searching for any sign of where the Opera Ghost might be. "Do you suppose he is hiding?" Christine asked.

"Perhaps he has fled. It would be the smartest thing to do." _We can only hope he's gone._

He walked around, finding broken glass shattering under his boots from empty mirrors. _Must've smashed them in a burst of insanity._ He kicked a shard out of the way when a new scream suddenly filled the catacombs.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword and raced towards the sound. "Christine! Christine, what's happened?!" _It's the Phantom! This was probably all a trick! He decided he wanted Christine after all and pretending to be in pain so we would come back! He's trying to take her again! This time, it's the end!_ Finally, he found Christine standing with her hands covering her mouth in front of... _What is that?_ , Raoul wondered. He walked closer, slowly and nearly dropped his sword when he realized it wasn't a "What", but a "Who".

The Phantom was passed out on the floor on his stomach. Bruises were all over him: One on his ribs that was an unsightly purple, a large blue one on each kneecap, his arms, and it looked like a few could be seen on his back through his white shirt. They were shaped almost like shoes. Raoul felt a bit bad for the man. Even after all the horrible things the Ghost had done, the scene was still...horrific.

Christine began to walk towards the injured man, small tears in her eyes, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Wait," Raoul told her. "Let me." He got to the Phantom's side on the ground and placed a hand on his battered shoulder. Shaking it a bit, he hoped for a response, but the man's eyes stayed closed. Raoul touched his neck and felt a pulse. It was calm and steady, as if he was merely sleeping. "Monsieur?" he asked. "Monsieur Phantom, can you hear me?"

"We shouldn't have left him." Christine whimpered. "Look what they've done. We shouldn't have just-"

"None of this is your fault." he told her sternly. "Please, don't think that. As bad as his situation is, you must remember he brought it on himself." He turned back to the Opera Ghost and tried to think of what to do. _It may be for the best he won't wake. If he saw me, he could turn violent. But how are we going to get him out of here? Christine surely won't let us leave him here now, not when the mob will probably return to finish what they started. The boat's not large enough for the three of us, though. Come on, Raoul, think! He wouldn't just have one or two exits down here. He'd have to have a way out for times like this. But it's not like I can_ ask him _now can I?!_

He looked back to Christine. "Lotte, I need you to calm yourself. Calm yourself and think very hard. He brought you down here on more than one occasion. Is there anything you remember that can help us get out of here while avoiding the flames upstairs? A secret passage? Trap door? Bookshelf that becomes a-"

"A horse!" She exclaimed, eyes wide and face brightening.

"...A bookshelf that becomes a horse?"

"No, no, he's got a horse somewhere down here! I remember he had me ride it the first time he brought me here! If we find it, we can all fit...mostly."

Raoul got to his feet. "I'm not sure how we'll get through those tunnels, but it's the best option we have." He carefully grabbed the Phantom and hauled him over his shoulder.

"Be careful, Raoul, don't hurt yourself."

"Don't worry about me. Lead the way, Little Lotte." He gestured to the tunnels.

"Wait, where's his mask? And wig?" She looked around and quite quickly, found another white half-mask and wig.

"Christine we must go quickly."

"Alright, I just thought he'd get angry if he woke up and didn't - _ow!"_

"What happened? Was it one of his traps?"

"No, I just kicked something." She bent down and picked up a small box with a figure on top. As she walked back over with the three things, he saw it was a music box with a very creepy looking monkey on top. Raoul chose to ignore it.

"We need to go now, Lotte. Who knows how long it will take to find this horse and navigate the tunnels? We can't risk the mob surprising us."

Christine nodded and headed down the right tunnel. "I'm trying to remember how he got us down here. If I can do that-"

"But that will lead to the Prima's dressing room, which is burning." Raoul explained. He took a torch off the wall with the hand that wasn't around the Phantom.

"Well, then I'm not sure how to get through here!"

He opened his mouth when his shoulder moaned. "Christine, he's waking!" he shouted, setting the man against the wall.

"Maybe he can stay that way long enough to tell us where to go."

Slowly, the Ghost moved his head a bit and opened his eyes very slightly.

"Monsieur?" Christine asked lightly as she dropped to her knees. "Can you hear me? It's Christine, can you hear me?"

"... Mmm...hmm…" was the answer they got.

"Listen closely." Raoul watched as she took his head in her hands gently, daring to touch the deformed side. "We need to get you out of here. Where is your horse?"

"Where… are…?" They could barely hear him.

"We're in the first _right_ tunnel from your home. We need your horse. Can you tell me where it is?"

There was a moment of quiet. The Viscount was worried he might black out at any second again. "...Take...left path from… h-here." The Ghost said. "Keep… going unt-t-til you get…stone...third… fifth r… r…"

"Phantom? Angel?" Christine lightly hit his face to keep him awake.

"Fifth what?" Raoul begged.

"R... Row." he finished. "From there… Caesar… k-knows."

"Caesar?" she repeated. "I don't know who that is. There's no one else here but us, everyone else left. Please, we don't know what you mean."

But his eyelids fluttered and he lost consciousness once again. "Monsieur Phantom?" Raoul called. "Monsieur, we don't understand! You're not making any sense."

"There's no point in shouting, he can't hear you." Christine sighed. "Well... at least he told us how to get to his horse."

"And then what? We don't know who he's talking about! Those might not even be the right directions!"

"Do you have a better idea?"

 _...She has a point. As usual._ He scooped the Phantom up again and they walked down the endless looking tunnel, then turned left. Even with the torches on the walls, it was horrible dark and dirty. Christine had let out a shriek when a rat crossed her path. _How could anyone stand to live this way? It's disgusting!_ He glanced at the peaceful, limp body over his shoulder. _Perhaps you've found a way to enjoy it down here. You are insane, after all. You might find some kind of_ comfort _in darkness and gloom._

 _I still cannot believe I'm saving you. If it weren't for Christine, I wouldn't be. She sees the beauty in everything. Even_ you, _the most despicable, disgusting man I've ever had this displeasure of coming into contact with. Not disgusting outwardly, but inward. She should have allowed me to finish you in the cemetery. It would've been better for everyone: You would have died fairly quickly rather than have a mob beat you, Christine and I would not have to worry about you and could start planning our wedding, the Opera Populaire would be intact, and the people who worked in it would be able to get on with their lives without fear of the Opera Ghost._

 _You should rot in a jail cell for the rest of your days for what you've done. You are a killer and a mad man. But Christine would never allow that to happen. No doubt she'll want you to stay with us until you're healed, then send you on your merry way._

 _You ought to be extremely grateful for what she's doing. A man like you - if you can be called a man - doesn't deserve an ounce of her kindness._


	3. The Phantom's Stallion

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for all the reviews! Just want to point out that throughout the story, I put little references, facts, and french words in it, and they're all marked by things like *, *** **2, or *3 (The numbers are tiny, though). Be on the look out because at the bottom of each chapter when they show up, the facts and translations are at the bottom. There's 3 in this one I beleive.** **Also, I took a few influences from the Leroux book by incorperationg the Phantom's horse and Raoul's brother Phillipe, but I pretty much made my own versions of them. Thanks again, and if there are typos, please tell me.**

Christine listened closely for any kind of noise. Any sign of a stallion or a coming mob. But all was quiet except for the sound of their feet and the Phantom's quiet, steady breathing. "What were his directions again?"

"He said to take the left path-"

"Which we did."

"And keep going until you...he got confusing here...until you get to a stone. Then he said 'third, fifth row, from there, Caesar', whoever that is, knows how to get out."

"Until you get to a stone? We find the horse behind a _rock?"_ She looked to the ground for any kind of boulder. "That doesn't make any sense. Maybe...maybe he missed a word. He wasn't totally with us at the time. A stone...statue? Stone column? Stone pathway? _Oof!"_ Her face was suddenly introduced to the wall in front of her. "Raoul, if I'm going to lead the way, I'm carrying the torch. I just walked right into a… stone _wall._ "

"His horse is behind a wall with no doors? How does he get to it?! He must've given us the wrong directions."

"Wait, wait… what did he say after that? And hand me the torch."

"He said something about a third or fifth row."

She took the light in her hands and held it closer to the wall. It was full of stones from every shape and size that seemed to be placed into straight lines. "'Third...fifth row.' It sounds like you push one of these rocks and something happens. So… the third rock in the fifth row."

"I still think he gave us bad directions, but rows are horizontal, so it must be that one." He pointed to a large, brown rock about the size of an average person's palm.

"Let's hope this does something, or else we're back at square one." She took a deep breath and slowly pushed the smooth stone. It sunk inside and before their eyes, the entire wall began to move! "Raoul, come quickly or you'll be left out here!"

It continued to rotate, revealing a whole new room beyond it. They walked through the opening and the wall closed behind them, as if it had never moved in the first place. _We'll,_ Christine thought. _That was interesting. It's astounding what the Phantom thinks of._

 _It would be even more so, though, if he used his gift for good instead of tricks and threats._ She walked over and lit the extinguished torches on the walls, illuminating the large room. It had a large stable and stacks of hay covered the floor. It crunched under her feet as they walked around.

A large stallion with a coat as black as night trotted out from the stable. His eyes seemed to glow in the light and his body was muscular and lean. He tossed his mane and nickered, looking them over. "It seems we found the Phantom's horse. But that doesn't tell us how to get out of here." Raoul pointed out as the horse began to munch on some hay. "He said something about a person named Caesar" - Christine saw the horse pause and look up at this - "Who knew the rest of the way, but… honestly, I think he made him up in some kind of delusion. No one else is down here, no one in the Populaire was named Caesar" - He looked up and flicked his black ears. "I really don't think he exists."

"... But he does, Raoul." she mumbled, astonished.

"What? What do you-"

"It's _him_." She pointed to the animal. "The Phantom's horse is named Caesar."

Her lover gave her a blank look. "So the _horse…_ is supposed to show us how to get out of the tunnels. Brilliant. The Phantom's a genius. Who knew you could teach a simple animal how to escape a labyrinth?"

"Raoul-"

"I mean, I've heard legends of teaching horses to _read_ or to do tricks, but _this?! Astounding!"_ he snarked. Caesar neighed, sounding offended and stamped a hoof. "He's shared his gift of knowledge with this simple beast, and now they're both geniuses!" He turned angrily to the limp figure on his shoulder. "Bravo, Monsieur! You are truly a man of great talent!"

 _"_ _Raoul!"_ She put her hands on her hips. "Don't _mock him_ like that! Even if he can't hear you! He's just gotten the sense beat out of him, it's no wonder he thinks his horse can help! At least he was able to wrap his brain around how to get here at all!"

He turned a bit pale. "Sorry, Lotte. It's frustrating. You know I don't particularly like this man."

"Well, just because I'm saving him doesn't mean I'm not mad, too! I've known him for years and he used me the whole time! But I don't want to see him suffer. Now, we're going to get on this horse and do our best to get out of this, this, _hellhole!"_ She glared at Raoul, who ashamedly turned away, then sighed and looked back at the horse. "Caesar," she called gently. "Caesar, come here. Do you remember me? You saw me once with your owner. Come here, now, I need you."

The horse looked at her with those eyes that seemed to illuminate themselves and slowly came closer. It was as if he was hesitant to trust other people. "We won't hurt you." she coaxed. "We're just trying to help the Phantom. Do you think you could help us with that?"

"He can't understand-"

"I'm _aware_ horses don't know our language, Raoul, thank you. I'm just trying to get him to trust me.

"...Sorry." Raoul shuffled his foot.

"C'mere, Caesar, it's alright." She held her hand out and he backed up a little. "No, no, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. You do want to help your owner, don't you?"

Christine couldn't be sure...no, she must've imagined it, but... _I could've sworn this horse just_ nodded _a little._ She whispered to him now, he was so close. "We just need to get out of here. Come here, Caesar. Come to Christine." Something in his eyes seemed to change. As if he'd recognized the name. "...Christine." she repeated, placing a hand on her chest.

Finally, a bit more confident now, the stallion strode up to her. She slowly stroked his nose. Christine then found his reins, saddle, and such and got the horse ready to ride. Caesar was calm all the while. "Good boy. Good Caesar. Come on now, let's go." She pulled at the reins slightly. Caesar neighed loudly and jerked away. "No, wait, wait, it's alright!" But before she could stop him, Caesar ran past the stable and towards a large pile of hay. "Caesar, come back!" Christine ran after him, the hay soft under her feet. It was very hard to run in the Phantom's wedding dress. It was still a bit wet from when she'd gone into the lake and kissed the man and it was big, hard to carry.

"Be careful, that's a wild animal!" Raoul protested. He followed her, the Opera Ghost sort of bouncing as he ran. Caesar had stopped and was now digging in the hay with his nose like he'd dropped something.

"What are you doing, you silly horse? There's nothing...there's...there's something." Christine got down on her knees and looked closer. There was something buried in the hay. A box of some kind. "Has he hidden something here? Something for you to guard?" She started to dig as well. "That's why you don't want to leave without it."

"Darling, this is an animal we're talking about. He's not doing anything but playing in hay."

"The Phantom is not an ordinary man, therefore it makes sense to assume that he doesn't have an ordinary pet." She brushed the last strands of golden straw away and Caesar backed away. Raoul's eyes widened. A very large suitcase was sitting there, latched and old looking. Christine admired it for a moment then slowly unlocked it. What she saw nearly made her fall over.

"...Is that...are those... _Mon Dieu*,_ I've never seen so many." The Viscount gawked.

 _Francs._ Hundreds of thousands of French francs. "Raoul, do you know what this is?" she asked. "...This is his salary."

Raoul made a face. "A salary is payment a worker gets when he does his job. The Phantom extorted this money. He didn't do a single thing to earn it."

But she barely heard him. She reached out and touched a few coins, felt the colored paper through her hands. When her father had been alive, they had very little money. He worked too much for too little. She'd had only the basics growing up, nothing extravagant. "...I've never seen so much money in my life. There must be at least a million francs here! I mean, every manager paid him around twenty-thousand a month, yes? Think of how many months he's been down here." Raoul merely grumbled.

Christine straightened, closed the suitcase, and picked it up. She took Caesar's reins and the horse obediently followed. He was much calmer now that they'd gotten the Phantom's money. "What are you doing with that?" Raoul asked.

"Well, he'll need it, won't he?"

"He got it illegally! It doesn't belong to him."

"It's a bit late to return it, now isn't it? Besides, he'll need money for clothes and such when he's on his own." The wall opened again with a touch of the stone and she led Caesar into the tunnels. Raoul placed the Opera Ghost on the horse like a deer who'd just been shot, then climbed on as well to make sure he wouldn't fall off. He took the suitcase, music box, mask and wig from her so she could lead Caesar and carry the torch. Raoul stayed quiet but she knew he wasn't happy. _I know I'm asking a lot. He's carrying the man who tried to kill him, for God sakes. He would've wanted the Phantom to die down here, but...I can't let that happen. The Phantom's known a horrible life, I bet. We should at least offer him another chance to live a better one. I can only hope that Raoul will understand in time…_

 _And pray the Phantom won't make us regret helping him._

They walked aimlessly down the tunnel, eventually coming to a place they could turn. "Shall we keep going or try this way?" Christine asked.

"I say we go back the way we came and try the left tunnel. I don't like the look of that one."

The other tunnel had no lanterns at all, only pitch darkness. The path they were on was lit. "Very well," she decided. "We'll follow the lanterns."

She began to walk forwards, past the turn, when - " _Whoa!" -_ Caesar yanked her back, making her fall onto her butt.

"Stubborn animal!" Raoul growled. "Here, let me take the reins, I can handle him."

"No, Raoul, stay there. You must be exhausted from what you've been through." Even in the dim light she could see the rope burns on his neck still. "I can take him." She looked at the stallion. "Come on, now, this way." She tried to lead him but he pulled to his left, towards the other tunnel. A thunderous neigh echoed through the catacombs. "What's the matter with you?" Again, he nodded left. Christine's eyes got a bit wider as she remembered the Phantom's instructions. "...'Caesar knows'." she whispered. She touched his shoulder. "Do you really know the way? Perhaps you've been down here long enough to remember."

"Christine, this is a _horse._ He doesn't know anything! He's just being difficult."

But the more she thought, the more she was convinced. "... I think we should try this way."

 _"_ _What?"_

"He really wants to go this way!"

"He's! A! _Horse!"_

"A horse who just helped us find the Phantom's treasure!"

Raoul opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't fight her point. "You have to admit, he's smarter than the average stallion," Christine told him, stroking the horse's nose. "If it's not the exit, then we turn around."

"And if the mob comes back and finds us?"

"That's a risk we have to take, but the longer we stand here arguing, the higher the risk becomes."

Raoul sighed and gestured to the tunnel in the left. Christine let go of the reins. "Alright, Caesar, time to prove yourself. Lead on."

And he did. He strode down the tunnel with Christine at his side like he'd done it a thousand times. They walked down twist after turn, turn after twist, in the dark, in the light until Christine felt dizzy from all the paths.

"He's going in circles." Raoul grumbled. "He's just walking around, he doesn't know where he's actually going."

"If he was going in circles we'd see our footprints." _I hate it when he gets like this._

Suddenly, Caesar broke into a run. "What the-!" Raoul was nearly thrown off the crazed animal as it raced forwards.

"Caesar, come back! Oh, I _hate_ running in this dress!" As Christine chased them, Raoul tried to reach the reins, but it was a bit hard crawling over the Phantom on a moving horse.

"Christine!" he yelled. "Get me off this crazy thing!" *²

 _"_ _Caesar! Where_ are you _going?! Come back!"_ She was breathless now and kept tripping over the dress even though she was trying to hold it. "Here, horsey, horsey!"

Suddenly, just as quickly as he started, he stopped. Raoul nearly fell off his back. "Damn horse!" he shouted, taking the reins. "You're as crazed as your master!"

Christine ran up, panting. "Enough...exercise...for me."

"Are you okay, Lotte?"

"Just...sick of running. Where are we? Why'd he stop?"

"This is just another dead end. I told you, dear, he doesn't know where he's going. He's just a horse. Well...a _crazed_ horse, but not a smart horse." Caesar whipped his head around and let out an angry neigh.

She let out a sigh and closed her eyes. _Heaven help me. I am in a maze with an unconscious man, my fiancé, and a horse with an attitude. God give me strength._ She looked up, hoping for some guidance.

And that was when Christine Daaé saw the light.

The sunlight from the hatch above them.

Caesar looked up, bit down on the rope that was dangling in front of his nose, and pulled. He backed up and before their eyes, the hatch opened and a staircase dropped down. It hit the hard floor with a _THUNK!_ Raoul looked at it in awe. "You have to admit," Christine told him as she took Caesar's reins, "As bad as he is, the Phantom is a genius. And it seems his horse is as well. Here, hand me his things. You go first with him, and I'll take Caesar."

Raoul still seemed a bit shocked by the fact that Caesar really _did_ seem to know how to navigate the Phantom's lair, but obeyed. Once he had carried the Opera Ghost all the way to the top, Christine led the stallion up into the world. "Good horse, Caesar. You did a good job. Your owner will be very happy with you."

The dawn was breaking now. The sun was creeping over the hills and the sky was full of bright pink, fluffy clouds. Caesar nickered and squinted a bit. _He's not used to sunlight anymore_ , Christine realized. _I wonder how long it's been since he's seen it. Since the_ Phantom _has seen it._ They loaded the Opera Ghost back on the horse, and Raoul stood in front of them, next to Christine - who holding the reins again. "He doesn't seem tame, dear. Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Honestly, Raoul, I don't think he likes you that much. He seems much calmer when I'm close. Do you have the mask, wig, and box?"

"And the suitcase full of stolen money, yes."

"Do you suppose we should close up that hatch?"

"I don't think you can close it from the top, just the bottom."

"In that case, we have no choice."

The hatch had let them out in an open field that was full of wheat and was very near the town. Caesar trotted along, relaxed. Raoul and Christine were anything but. She looked over her shoulder at the sleeping Ghost behind her. "What do we do now, Raoul? Any ideas?"

"Only one and you're going to hate it."

"You want to take him to the gendarmes." *3

"Yes."

"Dear, that's just as bad as leaving him for the mob!"

"The gendarmes aren't going to beat him like a dog!"

"No, they'll just lock him away in a tiny cell in the dark!"

"He _likes_ darkness! Christine, he's killed two people! That we _know of_ at least. He's a crazed killer who should be locked away for the safety of others!"

"Raoul…" She frowned and looked at the Phantom again. "I just...I just feel like...no one has ever given him a fair chance all his life. I at least want to give him that. A chance to show he's not just a madman. A chance to live a new life."

"... You are too good for this world."

"Please, Raoul, he was my friend once. I want to help him."

He sighed in her ear. "Alright, Christine," Raoul sounded defeated. "But don't get your hopes too high. He may be too far gone to salvage. Even for you. What do you want to do with him then?"

"... He's the most wanted man in Paris. We'll have to hide him somewhere. Somewhere completely out of France."

"...Like?"

She sighed, racking her brain. _All of Europe will be looking for him. And his face is a bit… recognizable. It has to be somewhere very far. But somewhere he can make a new life for himself. Somewhere where outcasts and misfits like him can be successful._

"Let me point out that we might want to keep a low profile for a while as well," Raoul said. "People are going to be talking about you and the Phantom on stage, and everywhere we go they're going to be gossiping and giggling behind our backs. Not to mention this entire ordeal is just going to follow us around. People will wonder if perhapes you were at one point, in _league_ with the Opera Ghost, and things like that. Unless you want to spend the next year or so with everyone turning to stare, we might want to think of leaving France for a time."

"...Philippe."

"When did my brother come into this conversation?"

"Didn't you tell me once that he moved to America to start some kind of business?"

"Temporarily. He's coming back to Paris next year. His company is doing quite well."

"We could go live with him for a while, yes?"

Raoul grew pale. "Are you _honestly_ _suggesting_ we let a _murderer_ live with my _brother?! Christine, what are you-"_

"I mean _you and I_ go live with him! Goodness, Raoul, let me get a thought out!"

"... That should be doable." he mumbled. "But what about him?" He pointed an accusing finger at the Opera Ghost.

"No one would find him in America. We find a way to get him there with us, then once we arrive, he is out of our hair and we find your brother."

"I still think the best thing to do would be turn him in, but you are determined to help him. And when you set your heart on something, there's no talking you out of it."

"No, there's not."

Another sigh. "Very well. Let's head to de Chagny Manor. People may be around waiting for me, but we could sneak in. We'll get some supplies for the journey, I'll write a quick letter to Philippe, and we will be on our way to America."

Christine stopped to kiss him on the lips. "Thank you, Raoul. You won't regret this."

She saw him look to the man of the hour. "I certainly hope not."

 _* Mon Dieu means "My God" in French_

*² Jetsons _reference_ _anyone?_

*3 _French_ _police_ _force_

 **Fun Fact: I did the math. If the Phantom started getting his salary when he was say, around 16 or 18, and asked for 20,000 francs a month since then, he would now have an estimated 3,840,000 to 4,320,000 francs (That's** **4,041,408 to 4,546,584 US dollars)** **if he never spent any of it. (In this story he is 32, Raoul is proabbly 28, and Chrstine maybe 26)**


	4. The Viscount, the Angel, and Erik

Surprisingly enough, no one was around the Manor when they arrived. "I expected some press to be here, ready to badger me about what happened at the Populaire." Raoul confessed.

"They were probably here last night, but got bored. But they could return at any time. We must be quick."

"I'll order my carriage. We can attach Caesar to it and be able to transport our things and the Phantom easily." _That is, if this stubborn horse_ allows _us to attach the carriage to him._ "Are you coming?"

"I'll stay here to help your people with Caesar. And in case the Phantom wakes again."

He walked up to the door, quickly, and knocked. Within a few seconds, it opened to reveal a small, plump maid. She gasped at the sight of him. "Viscount! Mon Dieu, you look horrible! Oh, your _neck!_ What on earth-"

"Madame Pritchard, I apologize but I cannot explain. I must leave with Miss Daaé immediately. Things have become...complicated here."

"Come in, come in, before those hounds, the reporters, see you." She ushered him inside and shut the door. "I'll get the lady some of your mother's old clothing. Where are you going? How much will you require?"

"We're heading to America to stay with Philippe for a while."

"Then who will stay in the Manor?"

"My brother will return next year, and Mother should come back from her holiday in a few weeks. Could you have someone bring the carriage to the front? We'll need to switch out the horses, though."

"Of course, my Lord."

"Thank you, Madame. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go pack."

Raoul scrambled up to his room, scribbled out a vague letter to his brother, and quickly gathered all the clothes he could fit in his suitcases. _I suppose I'll have to bring a few extra outfits for our_ passenger _since we had no time to bring his things. He'd better find a way to fit into my clothes until we can get into another town and get him his own._

Recalling the fact that he'd left Christine outside with the Phantom, he went much faster, grabbing all the necessities. _I have shirts, a coat, pants, socks, shoes, nightshirts, money, Madame Pritchard is getting Christine clothes, the butlers are getting the food, the stablemen are getting the carriage, I have Philippe's letter ...what am I missing?_ He blushed a bit as he realized he needed underwear. It quickly became a cringe as he remembered that the Phantom of the Opera, the man who'd attempted to kill him mere hours ago, would be _using_ his underwear. He grabbed his underpants and was about to leave his room, when he caught sight of the trunk in his closet.

Not entirely sure why, he went over to the dust-covered trunk and opened it. Inside were all his childhood things his mother had insisted he hang onto. "You can pass them down to your own kids when you have them", she'd told him. Raoul looked fondly at the old baby blankets and photos of him and his brother before they grew apart. Part of him wanted to take it along, but it would take up too much space in the carriage. And he could only bring what he absolutely needed. _I'll write a letter when we get to Philippe's asking this be sent over. Christine and I will have to start a new life in America. There is too much suspicion surrounding our names here._

He was about to close the truck, but paused. Finally, Raoul reached inside to remove his favorite childhood toy, then sealed the trunk up again. In his hand he held a stuffed, golden bear with a blue ribbon around its neck. Pierre, he'd called it. Pierre the bear. He used to take Pierre with him everywhere he went as a boy. Phillippe had always mocked him for it.

Many people mocked him for it.

But for some reason, though he was now a grown man, he felt that Pierre could not be left behind. He placed him in a suitcase with his clothes, closed it, grabbed the bags, and marched downstairs. Madame Pritchard was at the bottom, holding a few bags herself. "Everything's being loaded into your carriage, my Lord. Please, do write when you arrive at your brother's."

He thanked the maid again, took the bags full of clothes for Christine, and left his home. In the middle of the staircase, he stopped and looked back at the Manor again. He'd grown up here in France. Now here he was, fleeing like a fugitive, wondering if he would ever be able to come back. _All this...because of an Opera Ghost._

* * *

Christine had told the people of de Chagny Manor that the Phantom was "A friend of mine from the opera. He was trampled and injured when the fire broke out." After that, there were no problems, since she took care to cover the man's face. The luggage was loaded into the large, covered carriage and the Phantom didn't stir. Caesar put up a bit of a fight with the stablemen, but lost in the end. "It's all for your owner," she reminded him when the men had gone. _I'd look a bit odd, speaking to a horse like this in public._

She got to the front of the carriage and waited patiently for the Viscount. Again, she wondered why she was doing this. _You're assisting a wanted man in escaping the law. You're causing yourself and Raoul a lot of trouble._ But she had to help the Opera Ghost. She just... _had to._

Suddenly, the carriage began to moan. Her breath caught in her throat. She had hoped he wouldn't wake again until Raoul returned at least. Hesitating, Christine took the small step ladder off the top of the carriage, got off, placed it in front of the tall door...and went inside. She closed it behind her, but not all the way. She did however, draw the shades down, knowing the Phantom wouldn't be adjusted to the sunlight yet. All was quiet. _Perhaps he slipped back out of it again._

"...Mmmmmh…" he cried. Even in the near-dark, she could make out his shape. His head was elevated a bit on top of the blankets she'd placed under him. The rest of him was covered by another blanket to keep him warm. She could make out the unruly blonde hair in his face. She could see his deformity, the place where the skin was almost red and there was missing hair.

"Monsieur?" she whispered. "Are you awake?...Can you hear me?"

"Hmmm?" His eyes were barely open.

"Are you in much pain? Monsieur Phantom, can you hear me?"

Silence. He was wavering in and out of consciousness. Christine was about to leave the man be and get out of the carriage when she heard him whisper. It was strained and weak. She couldn't remember a sadder sound.

"A...Angel?"

* * *

All he could do was moan in pain. His head was cloudy. His body was aching as if it were on fire. … _Fire… fire… the Opera Populaire is on fire_ , he remembered. Memories were flooding back now. He remembered the disaster of _Don Juan Triumphant_ , dropping the chandelier, forcing Christine to choose him in order to save her Viscount, and… the mob.

 _They're not through with me yet,_ he grimaced. _They'll be back to destroy my voice and my music any moment now. Then I'll be subjected to hours upon hours of musical torture a la Carlotta. And surely when that's finished, they'll find some new way to torture me._

 _I can't say I don't deserve it._

The Phantom's sensitive hearing picked up the sound of a door opening. _A door? There are no doors down here. It's all tunnels and traps._ Confused, he fought to open his eyes a bit. He could see a figure standing before him in the small box of a room. There was a small bit of blinding light behind the shadowy person. It was so bright, he wondered for a moment if he was in Heaven. _If this is Heaven, why do I feel pain? Was I able to sleep through the rest of my torture? Did the mob finally end me? Is this...is this an_ angel?

"Monsieur?" she asked. She sounded like Christine. _Oh, Christine… "_ Are you awake?...Can you hear me?"

"Hmm?" was all he could do to answer.

"Are you in much pain? Monsieur Phantom, can you hear me?" She knew who he was. This had to be an angel. An angel who had the shape and sound of his love. _She's most likely here to judge me and send me straight to the depths of Hell. But if that's the case, why is she asking about my wellbeing?_ He'd never been so confused in his life.

He saw the angel start to leave through the door, into the light. Where was she going? She hadn't told him anything! He tried to sit up, to show that he was awake and needed her to explain, but his back was so sore from Carlotta's shoes. The Phantom parted his dry lips and tried to call out to her in a quiet voice. "A… Angel?"

She stopped and turned to him, closing the door almost shut again. He watched as she rustled through some things in the room and brought a canteen to him. Her gentle hand slipped under his head and lifted him a bit. "Here, drink." she told him softly.

He took a few gulps of what he found to be simply water and felt the ache in his throat began to leave. "Th… thank you." he said. His voice was a bit stronger now. Her hand left his head and laid him back onto some blankets underneath him. _There's one covering me as well,_ he realized. _Why is this angel being so nice after all of my sins?_ "Where am I?" he dared.

"You're in a carriage. We're trying to get you out of France."

"W...we?"

"Raoul and I. He's not pleased about it in the slightest, though. He wants to turn you in, but I can't do that. But that doesn't mean I'm not mad at you, I hope you realize." Her voice turned stern in that last part.

 _Raoul? The Viscount? But… if he… then this is not… could it be…?_ The Phantom opened his eyes a bit more, trying to see if it was true. "... Christine?"

"Well, yes. Were you expecting someone else?"

Slowly, the pieces began to fit. He thought he remembered having an odd dream about Christine and the Viscount. They were asking him about Caesar for some reason. Now that didn't seem much like a dream. "You are… helping me?"

"Attempting to. We… _I_ … think it would be best if the three of us head to America. Raoul and I will stay with his brother, and you will have a chance to begin a new life without worrying about the law. A chance I sincerely hope you take."

"But...why?" He turned away in shame. "After all I've done to you, why did you not leave me? Why not let the mob finish me or hand me over to the gendarmes like your Viscount wants?"

"As I said, I'm still very mad at you. You betrayed my trust. You lied to me. You _kidnapped_ me and killed people." She took a breath to collect herself. "But you were my friend once. You looked after me, and you were there when I needed you. And for whatever reason, you released Raoul and me even when you had what you wanted. So for that, I wish to help you get a better life."

His heart fluttered in his chest. _She_ cares _about me. Even if she's mad, she came back for me! She saved me from the mob! Oh, Christine, what did a monster like me ever do to deserve this?_

"Of course," her voice was stern again. "I must have your _word_ that you will never take another life unless it is to defend yourself. I'm not going to help you if you're just going to go back to your old ways."

He swallowed, still struggling to talk a bit. "You have my word. I'll never kill again unless it's in defense."

"And you will try to change? Attempt to show me the man behind the mask?"

 _Oh, that man. It will be hard to show him to you when I barely know him myself._ "I will… try."

She smiled in the dark and his soul took flight at seeing it. Her dainty little hand reached out and it took a moment before he realized he was supposed to shake it. Hesitant to touch her with his murderous hands, he slowly moved his own to meet hers. Closer, closer, they were so close to touching now. He would hold her soft, innocent hand in his own and again forge a connection with his dear Christi-

"Gah!" The Phantom recoiled and shut his eyes as the carriage was suddenly filled with light.

"Raoul, the sunlight! He's not used to it!"

He opened his eyes just enough to see the Viscount standing in the doorway with a few bags. "My apologies," he said, but the Opera Ghost caught his glare. The man shut the door again and dropped the bags. "Was I interrupting something?"

Christine said "No" the same time the Phantom said "Yes". Unfortunately, he wasn't loud enough yet.

"You should put those bags on the top." Christine suggested. "It would make more space in here."

"I will in a moment. I think we should head to Belgium. It's close, but it will get us out of Paris. There we can figure out a plan to get to America."

"How long would that take?"

"About six hours. We'll be there before most of the world is even awake."

"Perfect." She started to walk away from the Opera Ghost. "I suppose I'll take the reins?"

"Since you believe he likes you more." The Viscount trailed Christine as she took the bags he'd brought and opened the door slowly so at to avoid blinding anyone.

"Raoul, why are you following me?"

"I'll read the map while you steer." He held up a piece of paper. _Imbecile,_ thought the Ghost.

"I think I can manage steering a horse and reading a map at the same time. Besides, someone has to stay back here with…" He nearly shot up in joy as her eyes met him again. "I'm sorry," Christine said with a bit of laughter. "Though I've known you for years, I just realized I don't even know what your _name_ is."

"...My name?" he repeated. How long had it been since someone had asked him what his name was?

"I'm growing quite tired of calling you Phantom and Opera Ghost...Surely you must have a name?"

For a moment, he had to remember. To clear the cobwebs off that part of his mind. "Erik."

Christine nodded and turned back to the Viscount. "Someone has to stay back here with Erik." _The way she said it. The way her beautiful lips forms my name, the name she asked for, as if I'm a normal person._ "He might lose consciousness again, and we don't want that. And someone should look at his injuries and see if he has a concussion."

The long-haired man looked at him with a look that could only be described as pure and utter hatred. It was a look Erik had grown accustomed to over the years. He looked back at his dear Christine and was surprised to see a bit of an evil smirk forming on her mouth. "Unless, of course," she began. "If you want to take charge of Caesar and head us off to Belgium, I'll stay back here with him and look over his wounds." The Viscount grew paler at the thought. "But that would require him to remove his shirt so I may see the brus-"

"No, no, your way was better." He told her quickly. _What a pity,_ Erik thought. "You go take care of Caesar, I'll take care of him. Here, take the map."

Christine laughed again, a laugh that sounded like all the happiness in the world, and left the carriage. The Viscount drew the shades up slightly to allow some light. The small amount didn't bother Erik much as long as he didn't look right at it. The man then came and stood over him. "You should consider yourself very lucky."

"Why? Because it's so dark still I can't see your girly hair?" Before he could even grin at his joke, the Viscount seized him by the front of his shirt and lifted his head and shoulders off the seat he was laying on.

"You'd better be damned grateful for what she's doing for you." he growled. "Any other person would've left you in the catacombs. She doesn't _have_ to do this, and after what you've done to us both, I'm surprised she is." Erik looked away. "You do realize that if we're caught with you, we'll _all_ be in trouble, right? You're the most wanted man in all of Europe right now! We're _both_ risking our own skins for the likes of _you._ So you'd better consider yourself _extremely_ lucky. And don't insult my hair." He lowered him back onto the blankets. "Now, we should see if you've got a concussion from those blows to your head I'm sure you got."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't have a concus-"

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

In the faint light, he could see the man was holding up an open hand. _He won't let me be until I do this, I suppose._ "Four."

"Wrong. Five."

"The thumb isn't a finger. It bends a different direction. People say they have ten fingers, but they really have eight fingers and two thumbs...Is that the correct answer, dear Viscount?" He knew he was angering him, but there was just something very entertaining about making Raoul de Chagny squirm.

"Your vision is fine. What about your memory? Can you tell me the name of the final song in your _Don Juan?"_

"'Past the Point of No Return'."

"Who was the leading soprano at the Populaire?"

"The correct answer should be Christine, but it's Carlotta."

"And the managers were?"

"Idiot One and Idiot Two."

"...You, Monsieur, are an ass. Your head is clearly fine." Suddenly, the carriage burst into motion, causing Erik to press against the wall and Raoul to fall right across his stomach.

Erik growled in pain. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been kicked in the stomach by the mob, and now he had a grown man's weight on it. "Gerroff, gerroff, _gerroff!"_ he yelled through gritted teeth.

"Alright, alright, it was an accident." The Viscount regained his balance and called out, "Christine! Warn us next time you're about to start moving!"

"Sorry!" they heard her yell.

"Why did you wait so long to get the horse moving?"

"Your map is _stupid!"_

He sighed and turned back to Erik. "I really don't want to have you remove your shirt and I wouldn't be able to see well anyhow. Does it feel like any of your ribs are broken?"

"No."

"Where are you in the most pain?"

"My back. An elephant of a Prima Donna decided to trample me."

"Do you want me to help you turn over?"

"Consider you just _fell on my stomach-"_

"Look, it was an accident and I'm only trying to help you!"

"You want to hand me over to the gendarmes!"

"Well I'm _not,_ am I? And honestly, can you _blame me?_ Not more than a few _hours ago,_ if memory serves, _you_ were trying to _suffocate_ me with a lasso and force my future bride to wed you! And here I am risking my life and my _fiancé's_ in order to save _your hide!"_

Erik glared at him, menacingly, with his golden eyes. "I didn't ask for your help."

"You were a bit busy losing consciousness at the time."

"I don't need you."

"And frankly, I don't want to assist you either. But Christine does. And I'd do anything for her." Finally, the Viscount took a seat across from him. They sat in silence for a while, the only sound being Caesar's trotting hooves.

"Stop staring at my face." Erik ordered, knowing his deformity was in the man's sight.

"I'm not even looking at you."

"Yes you are, I can see your eyes."

"I wasn't staring at you, I was thinking and just happened to be turned in your direction!"

"Oh, my apologies, Viscount. I wasn't aware you were able to do such a thing."

The other man growled and grabbed something in the shadows. "Here," he said, tossing two items onto his chest. "If you're that worried about it, then put those back on."

Erik took his mask and wig and replaced them back onto his face. The sensation of being naked in public finally left him. _If they brought those, I wonder what else they were able to grab from my home._ He turned his head and saw his music box on the floor along with a battered suitcase. "Caesar remembered what I'd hid with him?"

"If you're referring to the money you _exploited_ out of the Populaire, then yes."

"It wasn't exploiting."

"Threatening people in order to get paid is virtually the _definition_ of exploitation."

"Had they paid me on time, I wouldn't have threatened anyone!"

"What in God's name are they supposed to pay you for?! You didn't do anything other than write a bunch of whiny notes!"

" _Excusez-moi_ , Monsieur, but I wrote multiple operas they could've performed, wrote _advice_ in those 'whiny notes' and taught one of their chorus girls to be a star!"

"All of which you did out of your own free will, it was not your job! Again, _you didn't do anything!"_

"They wouldn't _allow me_ to do anything!"

"Boys!" Christine yelled. "No more arguing or I swear, I'll turn this carriage around!"

Erik locked eyes with the man, waiting for him to turn away first. He wasn't. Finally, he gave up and faced the wall. _This trip is going to be the death of me. Telling me I didn't do anything. Doesn't he think that I would get a job like a regular man if the world didn't shun me? I would've given anything to be like the workers at the Populaire._

 _Imbecile._

 **A/N: Woo, he's finally awake again! Now the story only goes up. Also, I know the chapters are huge, but the story is long and I don't want it to be 30,000 chapters long (like _Test of Strength_ ).**


	5. Caesar's Tale

Raoul sat cross-legged in the seat of the carriage, trying to look out the part of the window that wasn't covered by the shade. Spring was upon them now. The world outside was becoming green and alive again after a harsh, bitter winter. He glanced over at the other man and noticed his slowly, steady breathing. _Thank God, he's asleep. I thought I might strangle him. I don't think I've ever met a more infuriating man than the Phan- er- Erik._

 _If we're caught with him, we'll all go to jail. Doesn't Christine realize that? She'd never make it in prison. Why is she risking everything for this man? How can she still have room for him in her heart - though it's huge - after everything he's done to her?_

 _Oh, Christine. I wish I understood you._

Suddenly, the carriage pulled over to the side of the dirt road and lurched to a stop, almost making Raoul fall again. His fiancé needed a few driving lessons. She opened the door slightly. "He's asleep," he explained.

"Oh, good. We're about halfway to Belgium now, well out of Paris. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry and have to, um….. use the ladies room. And Caesar looks like he could use a break."

"You go take care of yourself, Lotte. I'll get some food out." He got to his feet and began to look through the bags.

"Why don't we eat outside? It's a beautiful day and no one's around. We could make it a picnic." she smiled. "It would brighten the mood."

So he grabbed a blanket and walked out into the open grass. He found a few rocks and put them on the corners so it would move too much. Christine came back a few minutes later as he was setting out the food. "Shall I wake him? He's probably hungry and we don't want to have to stop again later."

"As long as he doesn't pick another fight with me."

She sighed. "I know there's some very serious things we need to discuss, but for now, please, let us just eat in peace."

As he finished setting everything out, he saw Christine assisting the man out of the carriage. He was cringing in the light and leaned on her and bit in order to walk. Caesar nickered at the sight of his owner. Erik smiled- _Am I seeing right? Is that a real smile?-_ and began to release the horse from the carriage.

"Won't he wander off?" Christine asked.

"Of course not, my dear. You may have realized that Caesar is not an ordinary animal." He stroked the horse's nose. "He's the smartest stallion in the world. He knows to stay close. Isn't that right, Caesar?" _Now I'm_ sure _that horse just nodded._

The two sat on the dark blue blanket with Raoul and Caesar went to eat some grass. They ate in silence through most of their sandwiches, until the horse nudged his owner's arms. "What?" he asked. The animal was staring at his sandwich. "You just ate, I watched you." Another nudge and a giggle from Christine. "No, Caesar. Go bug the Viscount if you're bored."

"Gee, thanks." Raoul sneered.

The horse neighed loudly. "Caesar, you're better than begging. Now I'm going to eat this sandwich and you're going to leave me alone and that's that." He brought his lunch up to his mouth and prepared to take another bite, but made the mistake of looking into the animal's green, pleading eyes.

"...Sometimes I really hate you." Erik grumbled, and Raoul watched as he took the rest of the lettuce out of his sandwich and gave it to the horse. Caesar licked his face in appreciation. "Caesar! Not when other people are around!" Erik wiped his cheek but didn't seem too mad at his horse.

Once Christine had stopped laughing at what had just happened, she finally spoke. "Erik, may I ask you something?"

"Certainly, my dear."

 _I swear, if he calls my_ _future_ _bride_ _"my dear"_ one more time….

"How did you get a horse under the Opera Populaire?" she asked, interrupting Raoul's internal threat.

"Very carefully and very quietly." he told her cryptically. "It honestly wasn't that difficult since the opera house was closed for the night."

"Yes, but… where did he even come from?"

"Christine, he most likely stole him from a poor rancher or something along the lines." The Viscount said. That earned him an evil glare from Erik.

"If you'd allow me to answer my own questions…" he growled, then turned back to the woman. "Caesar's story is one that I haven't been present for all of. I can assume that wherever he was before I came along, he was not treated fairly. You can see he does not like strangers and doesn't easily trust, as most animals do. And I'm afraid, Christine, that had it not been for pure fate, the story of Caesar's life would've ended long ago."

 _Erik skillfully jumped from rooftop to rooftop, barely making a sound. The sky was dark, not a star in it that night. It was late and the Opera Populaire had been closed for many hours now. He'd tried to sleep, but his mind was still awake. When this happened, Erik liked to explore the world beyond his dismal catacombs. He liked to see how other people lived._

 _He longed to be one of those people._

 _He jumped again onto the roof of a small factory when a sound caught his attention. Coming down the street was a team of horses pulling along a large trailer. A large, fat man cracked a whip to keep them going. Erik laid on his stomach to watch._ Why is this man out so late? _he_ _wondered_. And what's in that trailer?

 _He was answered by a loud, raspy cry from an animal. A horse, he realized. The sound of thundering hooves connecting with the trailer almost made him cover his ears. The animal kept screaming and kicking like it had gone totally mad! Curious, Erik followed on the rooftops until the horses were ordered to stop in from of a large, brick building with large smokestacks on the top. He recognized what it was immediately._

Interesting job those horses have, _he thought._ Having to cart one of their own off to the slaughterhouse. _The large man got off and walked into the building, shouting. "Charlie! Come get this blasted horse outta here!"_

 _"That's your job, Hugo!"_

 _"Damn thing's been kickin' up a storm all the way here! Took three men to get him in the trailer!"_

 _"Then why'd you take him? Whoever had him could've sent him to the glue factory! Make it somebody else's issue!"_

 _"The farmer practically gave him to me! He says the beast won't listen 'less he uses a whip! And he's a brute if an animal, too! He wanted him gone, so I got him cheap."_

 _All this time, the horse hadn't stopped fighting to get out. Erik was about to leave and go back to the Populaire. He didn't really want to be around for what happened next. He stood and was about to jump to another roof… but paused._

 _The horse in the trailer had made another sound. It wasn't angry this time, but more desperate. Like a cry for help._ Just go on, _Erik told himself._ Horses are slaughtered every day in France, it's the way things are. It's not my fault this one was unlucky. _Another cry as Charlie and Hugo kept on arguing. He kicked his foot around on the flat roof._

You know, _he thought,_ I've never really seen a horse up close before. I've only seen them pulling carriages. I suppose… I suppose it would make no difference just to have a look at the animal, then be on my way.

 _Oh, but what a difference it would make._

 _He climbed down the building and stealthily made his way over to the trailer. There was a small, barred window in it that he could look through._

 _The first thing he noticed were the horse's eyes. The seemed to glow green in the darkness. He then noticed the scars across his black coat. Some were old and faded, but others looked as new as yesterday. "It seems this world has not been very kind to you."_ _Erik said, quietly over the men's shouting. He looked to the ground. "It hasn't been very kind to me either."_

 _The horse finally noticed his presence and stopped kicking. He looked him over, then backed up._ He doesn't trust people. Though I can't really blame him, _Erik thought._ He does not seem that bad. It's not easy to be nice when it seems the whole world is against you. I bet all people do is shout at him and beat him. Such a shame he's ended up in this situation.

 _"Alright, alright!" yelled Charlie. "Let's get Leó and we'll all go out and try to get it. God knows he's not gonna come outta there easily now that he's in."_

 _Erik looked at the stallion again, then at the lock on the trailer. It was a simple padlock, but not so simple when one didn't have a key. But those eyes. And those_ scars. _Finally, a decision was made._

 _Reaching into his pocket, he removed a few hairpins. They were mainly for the rare days when the wig he wore refused to stay in place, but he thought they might do the trick. Erik quickly got to work on the lock, though he knew the real battle was going to be getting the horse out of the trailer._

 _The lock clicked open and Erik dropped in on the ground. He'd never been around horses so he had no clue how he was going to do this. But for some reason, he felt he had to try. Slowly, he opened the door. The horse let out an angry neigh and backed all the way up to the wall._ Approach it slowly, _he told himself._ The only way this will work is if you establish some sense of trust and _quick._

 _"Shh, shh, it's alright," he told him softly._ _"I'm not going to hurt you." Hesitant, Erik reached out his gloved hand to touch the animal's nose. The black horse lunged out and snapped his mouth at him. Thankfully, he'd pulled back before he could bite him. "Is that any way to treat someone who's trying to help you?" he asked. "Trying to take my hand off when I'm attempting to save your hide?"_

 _For some reason, this seemed to calm him. But he still kept those piercing green eyes on him. Erik tried another attempt. He plastered on an idiotic smile and patted his legs. "Here, horsey," he said in a childlike voice. "C'mere, horsey. C'mon, come to me. C'mere, boy, who's a good boy?"_

...I swear this animal just rolled his eyes at me. Well, I _am_ acting like an idiot. This is getting me nowhere, and if those men come back and see me, we're _both_ dead.

 _He grumbled and straightened himself. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its sweetness. Erik was getting frustrated. "Alright, that's it. The ball is in your court. You can either put an_ iota _of trust in me, or you may stay here and become nothing but a piece of meat. The choice is yours. I suggest you decide quickly, or I'm leaving."_ Listen to me, I'm talking to this beast like he can knows what I'm saying! He doesn't have any clue what's going on except that this building and trailer smell like death, _Erik thought._ What the Hell am I even doing? I've got to get back to the Opera Populaire before those men come back or dawn breaks. _He turned and began to walk out of the trailer._ If this horse wants to stay here and die, I won't get in the way.

 _Erik was about to step out of the trailer when he felt a large nose sniffing his shoulder blade. He turned and found the animal had come closer to him and was now smelling his shirt._ " _Well," he began. "Does this mean you've made your choice?"_

 _The stallion stopped at looked at him again. His eyes told him he was still wary of Erik. But he wasn't trying to bite him anymore, so this was progress. "Alright then. Let's get you out of here."_ _Erik jumped out of the trailer and the stallion followed. And not a moment too soon, because footsteps were approaching! Quickly, he ran off, hoping the horse was smart enough to follow._

 _"Can I at least wash the blood off my hands first? Do you two realize how much blood horses have in them?" asked a new voice._

 _"Leó, this will only take a few minutes if we do it right." The large one, Hugo, came into view, followed by the lanky Charlie and the bloody Leó. "The man I got him from told me they called him Caesar, but the whole time I was there, he just cursed at him , so who knows what he'll answer to."_

 _"Hugo…" Charlie mumbled._

 _"Now, Leó you be ready with the rope. You have to get it around its neck. Charlie will go in there calmly and try to get it to relax a bit."_

 _"Hugo."_

 _"I'll wait out here with this shotgun in case it tries to run off. Everybody know the plan?"_

 _"Everybody but one."_

 _Hugo turned to Charlie, confused. "Who?"_

 _He gestured to the empty trailer. "The horse."_

 _"Mon Dieu!" Hugo shouted. "But where did… how did…what are you looking at?" The other two men jumped at the outburst. "He can't have gotten far! Charlie, take Mal* Street, Leó, head down Cheval*2 Lane, and I'll take Tueurs*3 Avenue! Let's go, get moving!"_

 _The men sprinted down their roads quickly. Once they were out of sight and footsteps could no longer be heard, Erik slowly peered out of the alleyway they'd hidden in. They were gone._

 _He turned to the jet black stallion behind him. "Well… that was simple enough." Erik then realized he had another issue. "Now that I've got you… what in the world do I do with you?" he pondered the options for a minute, then realized there was only one. "I suppose I'll have to just take you with me. You can't make it out here by yourself, obviously." He started to walk back to the Populaire, then saw the horse was still standing in the alleyway, uncertain. "Come on, then. You don't want to wait around for those fools, do you?" Slowly, he began to walk towards him, but not too close._ He's still not sure I'm trustworthy or not. Well, he should make up his mind quick if he's going to stay with me. _"Alright, Caesar," Erik said calmly. "Let's go home."_

 _It wasn't easy getting Caesar into the opera house, even though it was closed still. But once they were down in the catacombs, it was better "I suppose you'll have to stay in my room until I can make the proper accommodations for you. You'd better not be any trouble or this won't work out." Erik realized what he'd just done and turned to face the animal. "Why is it that I keep speaking to you like you're a person? You're just a horse. You don't understand a word I'm saying." The stallion glared at him. Erik was feeling extremely foolish. "Well...at least you're a good listener."_ And at least I've got _someone_ to talk to now. Of course, I've got Madame Giry, but she's very busy usually.

 _They walked along the pathways until finally reaching Erik's humble abode. Emphasis on humble. After his late night rescue, the man was finally tired and ready to sleep. "You can sleep here until I can build you somewhere to stay, Caesar." he told him. But just as Erik was about to change into his nightshirt -_ There's no shame in changing in front of a horse - _and get ready to rest, he caught a glimpse of the animal in the candlelight. It had been hard to see before, but Caesar looked thin for an animal of his size. He could almost see his ribcage. And his coat of black was a bit duller than other horses he'd seen. It seemed Caesar hadn't been taken care of very well at all._

 _Pity and sadness welled up inside him, and Erik knew he had to do something if he wanted to get any sleep that night. He went to his kitchen and straight to the bowl of fruit he'd left on the counter. When he returned, Caesar was right where he left him, cautious of his new surroundings. Erik stood a few feet away from him, in case the animal became afraid again. As malnourished as he was, there was no doubt Caesar was a powerful animal that could do damage if he felt the need. Their eyes met, and after a few minutes of staring, Caesar laid down on the floor in a position almost resembling a dog. Erik took a seat as well and held out one of the apples he was carrying. Caesar turned away at first, but reluctantly gave into his stomach. It felt very weird to Erik, having an animal take something out of his hand._

 _He fed him the remaining apples, then laid on his stomach, admiring Caesar. He suddenly felt a bit like a child with a large toy in front of him. He wanted to play with it, to see what it could do. He'd never had an animal so close before. But he knew he risked scaring Caesar, so he just watched him for a while._

 _Yet his body was stronger than his brain at the moment, and before he realized what he was doing, Erik was reaching his hand out towards the stallion. Caesar flicked his eyes towards him and leaned back a bit. Erik finally came to his senses and froze._ What am I _doing?_ He tried to bite me less than an hour ago, and I'm offering him my _dominant hand?_ I need to play the organ with this ha-

 _His thoughts were interrupted as a soft, warm feeling came over his fingers. Caesar's nose was pressed against his palm. Erik's eyes widened._ He's letting me touch him. All the scars and starvation, yet he's not afraid of me anymore. _He started to stroke his muzzle. It was the first time he'd ever touched an animal that wasn't a dead rat in the tunnels. Caesar seemed to calm a bit, then began nudging Erik's mask. "What? What are you doing?" The animal nickered. "You don't like my mask?" He laughed a bit. "Believe me, Caesar, you don't want to see me without it. It'll scare you off. You'll bolt back through the tunnels." But he persisted, trying to push the mask off with his nose. "Stop it. Trust me, you won't like what you see." Erik turned away, feeling ashamed._

 _"...I'm a monster. A freak," he mumbled. "A disgusting, horrible, disfigured creature. You deserve a better owner than me, Caesar. But it seems I'm all you've got." The horse suddenly reached out with his mouth before he could react. Caesar quickly plucked the mask off his face, revealing the deformity underneath. Erik gasped and looked shocked at the animal. He waited for Caesar to get up and cower in fear as he had in the trailer. Waited for him to run off, to go anywhere rather than stay with him._

 _But nothing happened. Caesar's eyes studied him for a minute, as Erik was too surprised to cover his face. Then, something strange occurred. Something that had never happened to him before. The horse's expression seemed to soften a bit. He placed the mask on the man's leg and brought his face closer to him. Erik shuddered a bit as he felt a wet tongue touch the swollen, revolting side of his face. "Wha...what are you...why did…?" He could only look at the animal, wide-eyed._

 _Caesar did it again and again, and emotion began to overtake Erik. He started to laugh, yet tears streamed down his eyes now. No one had ever looked at his hideous face and stayed with him before. They'd always scream and run off. Why was this animal different? And now here he was, doing his best to give Erik his form of affection. His own mother wouldn't even_ hug _Erik, not even with the mask!_

 _He was crying steadily now, but they were tears of happiness. Caesar had finally stopped licking Erik, allowing him to wrap his arms around the horse's neck. Caesar didn't seem to mind his touch anymore. He petted his mane and cried into his neck. Both of them had reached an understanding. They had both been unfairly shunned, abused, and tormented. Caesar had his scars, as did Erik along with his face. The world had not been kind to them._

 _But that was why they'd chosen to be kind to each other. Who else did they have, after all?_

 _Exhaustion - both physical and emotional- consumed Erik, and he was soon lying down on the horse's shoulder. Caesar put his head down and fell asleep, finally feeling safe in his new environment. Erik looked at him, his eyelids becoming heavy, and thought one final thing before he fell asleep:_

 _It was going to be very nice to have a friend._

 **A/N: I loved writing this chapter! Erik and Caesar's relationship is one of my favorite things in this story. Hope you liked this chapter! Thanks for the reviews!**

 _* "Mal" means "Evil"_

 _* 2 " Cheval" means "Horse"_

 _*3 And "Tueurs" means "Killers" in French. Together the street names the slaughterhouse workers go down make out "Evil horse killers"...according to Google translate_


	6. Arguments and Reflections

Christine was teary-eyed having heard Erik's story. It was such a tragic yet heartwarming tale. She got up and wrapped her arms around Caesar. _Poor thing. Who would ever want to hurt such a sweet horse?_ "Thank goodness you were there, Erik, or else who knows what would've happened?"

"... I didn't mean to upset you." he told her sheepishly.

"No, no, it wasn't you. It was just so sad, but it was a nice end." She stroked the horse's velvety ear. "And it's not over. The bond you share will never break. It's as strong as mine and Raoul's. Isn't that right, Raoul?"

Raoul paused a moment, looking for the right words. "Well… you stole a live animal, which is a crime. But it was a crime with good intentions."

 _At least he's trying,_ Christine thought. Unfortunately, Erik didn't see it that way. A sour laugh escaped him. "Everything I do is just complete evil in your mind, isn't it?"

"He wasn't trying to-" But the other man cut her off.

"I was being honest. You committed a crime, but saved a life."

"Yes, and I suppose that's better than all the other _crimes_ I've committed."

"Well, considering the other ones were murder, exploitation, and kidnapping, stealing a horse from a slaughterhouse seems admirable in comparison."

"Kidnapping? She came willingly!"

"The first time, maybe, but not the second. Look, I'm not trying to start anythi-"

In a flash, Erik had lunged at Raoul and was now on top of him. Raoul was trying to block the man's fists with his arms. They groaned and fought like school boys arguing over a toy. "Stop, stop!" Christine shouted over them. "No more fighting! Erik, _stop!"_ The former Opera Ghost was on top of him again and Christine ran over, trying to pull him away. With great effort it finally worked, and she fell onto her backside.

Erik was now practically in her lap, breathing heavily with his fists clenched and white knuckles. Christine held back his arms and had one of her own across his chest so he wouldn't lunge again. "Raoul, are you hurt?"

He sat up, anger on his face. "You see, Christine? I told you. I told you he can't change!"

"Raoul, he-"

"I was doing my best with him, but look what happened! He's _insane,_ Christine! We shouldn't be _helping him_ , we should've brought him to the gendarmes while he was still unconscious!"

"He needs a _chance_ , Raoul!"

"To do what? Be free of the law in America only to do the same things over again? Find a _different_ business to leech off? To kill the innocent?"

"He used to be gentle, and patient and kind! He was my _friend!"_

"To you he was kind! To everyone else he's a madman and a _murderer."_

"Well, everything was fine until you showed up!"

Raoul's jaw dropped.

"I didn't mean that!" Christine told him after realizing what she'd said. "I meant that _he_ was fine until-"

"So the truth comes out…" he said, rising to his feet.

"No, Raoul, I misspoke!"

"Everything was just fine until I showed up, is that right? Makes perfect sense: The Phantom controlled himself as long as he had you, the managers paid him, you had your _Angel, everything was great!"_ He was visibly hurt. "Then I had to come back and mess it up, right! I tried to take you away from the Phantom, so he became violent! I wouldn't give Firmin and Andre extra money to pay him! Everything that happened at the Populaire was _my_ doing!"

She got to her feet, quickly, accidentally dropping the exhausted Erik onto the grass. "No, that's not what I meant! It's not you! If anything, it was my fault!"

Erik panted on the ground. "No...Christine...not you…." But at the moment, it was as if he'd disappeared.

"Well I suppose so!" shouted Raoul. "Perhaps if you hadn't believed that the voice in the shadows was an angel, this wouldn't be happening. Maybe if you would've told me about him when we were reunited, we could've stopped the Phantom before things got out of hand."

"I _did_ tell you!" she shouted. She felt it was her fault this was happening, but she hadn't expected him to agree.

"You told me you were visited by the Angel of Music! I took that as a metaphor for the fact that you had a great voice. Now, had you said, 'I can't have dinner with you tonight because I've got to meet with the masked man who comes through my mirror every night', you would've gotten a different reaction!"

"He hadn't come through the mirror until that night!"

"Then, in the graveyard, you nearly fell for another one of his tricks! He was calling to you with his voice, the _same voice_ you've heard for probably _years_ , but you almost fell for it! How could you not tell that was the Phantom? What, you thought it was your _father?_ Christine, your father is _dead_!"

Her cheeks were turning red and tears were welling up in her eyes. "I'm _aware_ Father is dead, Raoul!"

"And _now,_ even after all the tricks, lies, and _murders_ , we find ourselves in this situation! After he's killed two men, nearly killed me, kidnapped you, and almost forced you to _marry him,_ we just _have_ to help him because he deserves a _chance!_ Where do the chances end, Christine? Do you understand that if we're caught with him, we _all_ go to jail? Do you?"

 _"_ _No, Raoul, I don't understand that! I didn't think of that because I'm just a big idiot who thinks angels exist! Just some ditzy choir girl who lets herself get kidnapped and deceived by Phantoms! Thank you_ for pointing that out!"

Her fiancé paled and the tension in his body began to leave. "But may _I_ point out," Christine shouted. "That you _heard_ Erik calling to me the night you came! You heard a man's voice in my room and knew the door was locked! Then I went missing for _hours,_ Raoul! So what did I do when I got back, after Joseph Buquet was murdered? I ran to you for help! I told you I'd been kidnapped by the Phantom of the Opera! I told you he'd taken me to his lair and made me a _wedding gown!_ And _what did you say?_ 'There is no Phantom of the Opera', 'That was a dream', like I'd just _imagined it all!_ Well, if it was all a dream, then who was in my room that night? Where did I go for hours?" She paused, trying to compose herself. "I could've been smarter with the situation. I could've gone for help before any of this even happened. But when I did," Christine was shooting daggers at her lover. "You could've believed me."

She marched off, not really knowing where she was going. "Christine," Raoul called after her. "Christine, wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to argue with you. Christine, come back!"

"Just leave me alone!" She took off, running far away from both men. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn't believe the situation she'd gotten herself into. Eventually, she found a shady place under an oak tree and took a seat in the grass. She wiped at her eyes and tried to calm herself. "What sort of mess did I get in now?"

Christine sat under the tree, thinking about everything that had occurred since Erik had brought her down to the catacombs the first time. An hour or so passed before footsteps came into earshot. "I don't want to talk to you right now, Raoul."

"It's umm...it's not…" Erik mumbled.

For a moment, she was surprised it was him. But the anger returned quickly. "Well I'm not overly _pleased_ with you, either! I've been trying to hold myself together up till now, but you're about ninety-percent of the reason this is happening!"

"Christine, don't take any of the blame. This entire thing is my doing."

"Please, just leave me alone."

"I just wanted to apologize for my earlier actions. My temper is a bit...hard to control at times."

"You ought to learn how to," she snapped. "I shouldn't have to _physically restrain_ you. And how were you able to do that if your back is hurt?"

"Mind over matter."

She waited in silence, hoping he would leave her be. But he remained.

"...I know you're still angry with me. Perhaps...we should stop trying to ignore it and get it out of the way? It may get rid of some of the tension."

"What would get rid of the tension is if you and Raoul would stop getting at each other's throats every five minutes! And I mean that metaphorically _and_ literally in your case!" she told him, looking up at him finally. "You want to talk about this? Fine! Why did you kill Buquet?"

He shuffled his foot in the dirt and couldn't look at her. "He was trying to catch me. He knew too much. I couldn't have anyone trying to prove my existence or capture me. I had no choice."

"And Piangi?"

"He was trying to hurt you."

"What?"

"Before _Don Juan,_ he and Carlotta were talking backstage. He told her he thought you were the root of all that was happening. He decided that he wasn't going with the Viscount's plan to capture me and was just going to push you off the set in the end of 'Past the Point of No Return'. I couldn't let you get hurt because of what I'd done. So I strangled him before he could get near you and took his place as Don Juan."

"And you expect me to believe that. I'm getting really sick of you lying to me."

"Christine, I'm being honest."

"Why would Piangi blame me?"

"Because he knew that it was you I wanted. If you were gone, I'd have no reason to do anything more. At least that was what he thought. Honestly, what would've happened was more like an enormous, murderous rampage on my part since the fall would have broken your neck and killed you."

"...Was that meant to help your case?"

"Well that's beside the point, I suppose. The fact is that I only killed Buquet for my own safety and Piangi for yours."

"And neither of those things would've happened had you not been the Phantom of the Opera in the first place. Why did you become this character?"

"The Opera Populaire was my only sanctuary what with my…" He gestured to the part of his face that was covered by the mask.

"Yes, but why threaten the managers? And ask for a salary?"

"The managers were not running the Populaire as well as it could have been run. Carlotta should never have been allowed on the stage."

"That doesn't give you the right to drop stage equipment on her or kill her voice."

"Yes, that was wrong of me. As for the salary, I felt I was contributing to the opera house and should've been paid."

"Erik, Firmin and Andre didn't even make twenty-thousand francs a month."

"...Perhaps I could've been...a bit more reasonable."

"Really, you think?" She sighed. "If the Populaire was the only place you could live, then why did you drop the chandelier and set it on fire?"

"I admit, it was a moment of madness. Perhaps more than a moment." Erik explained. "You'd just taken off my mask in front of everyone. The gendarmes were approaching. I was...I was scared." He met her eyes for a moment and the fury in her began to leave. _Curse his eyes,_ she thought. _They just radiate with innocence. It's like a child is staring right through me. Yet, they're so full of sadness and hurt._ "Dropping the chandelier was the only thing I could think to do to keep them away from me. I certainly didn't want them to catch me and arrest me. I have...what you might call a severe phobia of cages. Jail cells included. Bu that's not important really. I was panicked. I was afraid that…"

"...Afraid that what? That you'd be captured?"

"...That I'd lose you. That one way or another, the Viscount would take you or I'd be arrested and never see you again." He finally sat down next to her.

"Why me?" Christine asked.

"You're like no one I've ever met before, Christine. You find a way to care about everyone. You don't judge people on the way they look and never hold a grudge. You're like an angel."

"I'm not an angel, Erik. I'm just a woman."

"A beautiful woman with a big heart that even had a monster like me in it once."

"You're not a monster."

"That's highly debatable."

She sighed again and made a mental note that she'd have to handle this "Monster" topic at a later date. They had other things to discuss at the moment. "If I meant so much to you, why did you lie to me? Why pretend to be an angel?"

"What was I supposed to say?" He laughed, sarcastically. "'Bonjour, I'm the Phantom of the Opera. I'd like to give you some voice lessons.'?"

"Well, no. But what about, 'Hi, I'm Erik.'?"

"I still would've hid in the shadows."

"You shouldn't hide from me."

"...Did I miss anything?" he asked, changing the topic.

"Yes. Why did you let Raoul and me go?"

"I didn't want to force you to be with me."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it when you brought me down there."

"Came to my senses. Like I said, I was panicking. In that moment, I realized what I was doing. I couldn't win: If you chose to stay with me and I took you, your Viscount wouldn't stop until he found you again. If you chose the other option, which you never would….I'm not sure _what_ I would've done."

"Wouldn't you have killed Raoul and taken me anyway?"

"...I really don't know. But you wouldn't have chosen to kill your Viscount anyhow. I knew you'd choose to stay with me if it meant his life. That's why I did that."

By now the anger was gone. Now Christine was just curious. She really knew very little about the person next to her. "...How long were you down there?"

"Under the Populaire?" he asked. "...I don't know. I ummm….met Madame Giry when I was about ten."

"How old are you now?"

"Thirty-two."

Her eyes widened. "Twenty-two years?"

"Give or take."

"Then...you've never really known anything else but the opera house."

"Not really. Madame Giry told me about some things, and brought me books, but...I don't really remember much before I met her."

Again, her heart went out to the man. She looked away for a moment, then something caught her attention. An old dandelion was in reach. It was full of silver, wispy dandelion seeds. Christine reached out and plucked it then held it out to Erik.

"...What's that?" he asked, curiously.

"A dandelion."

"Those are yellow."

"When they're young, but this one's older. All those silver things are seeds. You're supposed to blow on it."

"Why? Won't the wind eventually do that?"

"Yes, but when you do it, you make a wish."

He laughed a little again. "Angels and wishes. Christine, it's hard to think you're twenty-six."

"Just do it. Humor me."

"I thought you were mad at me."

"Not anymore, really. You've sworn not to kill anymore and you're going to change. And I'm going to help you."

He looked at the flower and blushed a bit. _He's embarrassed. He thinks I'm making it up,_ she realized. She grabbed a second one not far away and looked at him. "Here, I'll do it first." She held it close, closed her eyes, and thought of a wish: _I wish this whole big mess will work out well and the three of us will be happy in the end._ She blew the seeds and they soared over the grass, out of sight.

"...What did you wish for?" Erik asked.

"I can't tell or else it won't come true. That's the thing with wishes. Now you."

Slowly, he accepted the dying weed and held it up to his face. "Close your eyes," she ordered.

"This is foolish."

"This is fun." Christine smiled. He sighed and blew the seeds all around. "Did you make a wish?"

"You told me to."

"Will you tell me when it comes true?"

"If you do the same."

She smiled and looked at Erik. "Your eyes are red." he observed. "Were you crying?"

"A little."

"I hate it when you're sad," he told her. "You're too nice to be sad. You know, Christine… it was your tears that drew me to you in the first place. Do you remember?"

"Remember? How could I forget that encounter? But...I don't know it from _your_ perspective."

* * *

 _Erik watched the girl light the candles from the shadows. He'd been watching young Christine for years, ever since she'd arrived eight years ago at the Opera Populaire. Madame Giry had told him about her: her mother had died in childbirth, and her father had just recently passed away. She was an orphan and the opera house was the only place she had now._

 _That was something he understood._

 _Since that day, he watched her grow. She was a beautiful girl with great talent._ If only this _idiot_ manager would take her out of the chorus and give her a chance in the spotlight, _he thought._ If only they could see what I see.

 _Christine knelt in front of the candles she'd lit and began to pray, not knowing anyone else was near._ _"_ _Father," she said quietly. "I know you must be very busy up in Heaven. But you told me you'd send the Angel of Music to guard and guide me in your absence. You said He would keep me company. He hasn't appeared yet, Father._

 _"_ _I'm very lonely here. I have Meg, my friend. But everyone else doesn't seem to like me. The other chorus girls ignore me. Meg says they're jealous. And La Carlotta is always very mean. She yells so much and throws things. She almost hit me with something the other day!" Tears were falling now. She sniffled. "Father, I wish the Angel would come soon. I need help. I feel so lost without you._ _I don't know what to do. I don't think I'm a very good singer, and I'm worried the manager might fire me and put me on the streets."_

If he even _thinks_ of doing that, he'll have a lasso around his throat before he can blink! This girl has true talent. She doesn't just sing the music, she _feels_ it. Just as I do. She lets it take her over and does it justice. Poor girl. Why must they make her an outcast?

 _"_ _Madame Giry says she won't let that happen, but… I wish I could be more like Carlotta." Christine told the candles. "The manager seems to love her and she gets everything she wants." She let out a dry sob and wiped her eyes. "I wish I could sing like her."_

 _Before he knew what he was doing, Erik spoke. "_ What? _You wish to_ sing _like_ Carlotta? _My dear child, if you think what that woman does is called_ singing, _you are_ sadly _mistaken! She's nothing but a toad that croaks too much and refuses to go back to her swamp! And believe me,_ no one _likes the way she sounds! The only reason the manager tries to keep her around and bends to her every whim is because they have no one to replace her! Do not wish to sound like that talentless hack!"_

 _He froze where he was. What had he done? He'd never meant to reveal himself to her. The girl was on her feet now, looking around. "...Who...who are you?" Christine asked timidly. "_ Where _are you? It's too dark to see."_

 _"_ _... M…me?" he asked foolishly. He didn't know what to do._

 _"_ _Yes, you. You're the only one here."_

 _She had a point. "_ _I'm… well, ummm… I am…"_

What do I do now? _he wondered._ Maybe I should just leave. Maybe she'll just think she imagined all this. But… she's so sad. _Erik cared about her so much, he couldn't bear to see such a sweet girl so tearful._

 _"_ _Are you… are you the Angel of Music?"_

 _She had her hopes up now. There was no going back. He had to do something._

 _"_ _Did my father send you?"_

 _He took a deep breath._ Well… perhaps this will work out. Angels don't have to be seen. And I could help her improve her voice! She could replace that _toad_ as Prima Donna and be given the fame she deserves! _Erik made up his mind. It was risky, and he didn't like the feeling of lying to such an innocent girl, but…_

 _"_ _... Yes, child. I am your Angel of Music, and I've heard your prayers. Forgive me for not coming earlier, but I had to ensure you were indeed worthy of my guidance."_

 _He could see her smile in the candlelight. It made him feel good to know he made her happy. "I wish to help you, my dear." Erik continued. "You have a phenomenal voice. The manager is just not giving you a chance. You could take Carlotta's place as Prima Donna in a heartbeat with some voice lessons...if that is what you wish."_

 _"_ _You would teach me to sing?"_

 _"_ _Of course, child. Whatever you wish. You've proven yourself to me."_

 _"_ _...Could we start now, Angel?"_

 _And that was the beginning of everything._

 **A/N: Okay, sorry if Raoul comes off as a jerk here, but you kind of have to understand this stuff had to come out. You have to hit rock bottom so you can build back up. Also, the Piangi thing, I totally made that up. They never really gave a reason why the Phantom murdered him, and not so much in the musical either. So I tried to give him a bigger motive. Hope you like it! Thanks for the reviews!**


	7. The Awkward Inn

"I still wish you hadn't lied to me all these years," Christine told him. "But I suppose you did what you felt you had to. I'm glad you helped me, anyway."

"I will be honest with you now."

"Good." She rose to her feet and he followed. "We should go back."

"Yes, before your Viscount thinks I kidnapped you again."

 _Oh, Raoul,_ she thought. They walked back to the carriage and Raoul came up to her instantly with flowers he'd gathered.

"Christine, I'm so sorry about all this. It's not your fault, I was an idiot. I don't want to fight with you. I love you! Please, what can I do to make it up to you?" he asked, taking one of her hands.

She met his eyes with a stern look. "We're going to put this behind us. No more blaming each other. Everyone had a hand in this, and now we're all in this together. We may as well try our best to get along. Now, we should get moving. It's dangerous to stay in one spot for too long. For all we know, we might be being followed."

"Oh, please," Erik said. "Those fools Firmin and Andre couldn't find us if they got all of Paris looking for me."

* * *

 _"_ _How could he get away?"_ Firmin shouted. The remaining few members of the mob - the two former managers and Carlotta- were gathered outside the torched Opera Populaire. It was still standing, but obviously structurally unsound. "We had him knocked out, underground, and beaten to a pulp! And he _escaped!"_

"Richard, please, try to compose yourself," Andre begged. "The gendarmes are combing every inch of Paris. They'll find him and put him away for good. Or execute him!"

"I don't want him executed! Not so soon!" he shouted. "I want him to feel pain! I want him to suffer just as he made us suffer! Andre, we're broke!" He gestured to the decrepit opera house, which just a day before was a beautiful building. "Hundreds of people just lost their jobs and homes! I want this man to pay for what he's done! I want him broken! I want him to _beg_ for death!"

"You want revenge?"

"No, not revenge! It's… it's…"

"Justice," said an unfamiliar voice.

Firmin, Andre, and Carlotta turned around to see a tall, lanky man. He had short, choppy blonde hair, electric blue eyes, and a gruesome looking scar on the side of his face, near his right ear.

"An' just who are you?" Carlotta snapped, her hands on her hips.

"Forgive me for interrupting," the man said as he began to approach her. He took her hand and kissed it. "I'm Alastor Mauvais*, and I believe I can help you."

"Unless you know how to catch a ghost, I must ask you to be on your way," Andre told him.

"Oh, but I think I _can_ catch your precious Phantom." he grinned, coming towards the two men. "You see, I'm the head gendarme at the Paris prison. I'm the one who's found every single one of those prisoners. I've tracked them down like a bloodhound and ensured they've seen justice. And justice is what it sounds like you're after. This man hsa hurt you terribly. Everyone could have lost their lives in that fire he caused. Think of all the innocent people who could've been hurt."

Now Firmin was interested.

"And you believe you can find him?" Andre asked.

"By yourself?" Carlotta added.

"I'll have a small team with me, of course."

"He's not like ordinary criminals," Andre warned. "He's completely mad. And he has no fears or weaknesses!"

"He's got nozing to lose!" the diva chimed.

Alastor tisked. " _Everyone_ has a weak spot. Everyone has fears. Even a ghost has something he cares about that he doesn't want to lose. The only matter is finding it. And finding _him."_

"If you did find him and took him to your prison," Firmin asked. "What would you do to him?"

The man gave him a bright smile. "Well, I cannot tell you that at this time, but I can assure you that he will never see the light of day again once captured."

"...He doesn't exactly like sunlight," Andre pointed out. "So that's not really a punishment."

* * *

Raoul took charge of Caesar for a while after the argument, though neither of them were happy about it. Christine changed out of the wedding dress and was now riding on top of the carriage with Erik. There was a small fence around the top so luggage wouldn't fall off, so it was safe. He heard them talk about music and the world and such. _It seems they've rekindled their friendship,_ he observed. That was alright by him. Christine was allowed to have male friends. He wasn't her owner, he was her friend and fiancé.

 _Of course,_ Raoul pondered. This _male friend is a wanted killer who's obsessed with her in any way, shape, and form...but if she's alright with it, I'm done arguing._ He tuned out their conversations and focused on the road, satisfied with the thought that the Phantom would slip. Sooner or later he would show his true colors once again, and when he did, Raoul would be ready. They'd have him locked up for good in the bat of an eye. The only downside to this inevitable situation was that it would hurt Christine. _Oh, Christine. You just see the good in everyone._ He gave a venomous glance over his shoulder to the masked man, who didn't notice. _Even when it's not even there. You think he can change. But even if he wanted to, he can't. He's much too far gone. This man has no sense of right and wrong. He is insane and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He feels no compassion, has no remorse, and doesn't even have the ability to love anything. He may think what he feels for her is love, but it's truly deranged madness. In a way, I pity him. But that doesn't mean he's not a criminal._

Eventually, they pulled into Belgium. Christine went off on her own to buy some clothes that weren't so...Raoul's mother, leaving Erik and Raoul to get a room in the local Inn for the night. Erik had donned a black cloak that Raoul had brought from the Manor to make sure no one saw him. They left Caesar out front and walked into the Gênant _*2_ Inn.

The woman at the desk was puffing a cigar and her eye makeup was disgustingly smudged. "Can I help you?"

"We need two rooms for the night," Raoul told her. He placed a few frans on the counter and the woman looked interested. "Will this be enough?"

She grinned and snatched the money off the counter, most likely putting it right into her pocket. Then she produced a small, brown book and opened it up. "Write your names down on today's date."

Raoul reached out for the crooked pen when Erik grabbed it first, suddenly, and glared at him from under the cloak. _What in the world is his problem? Does he think I was just going to write "The Phantom of the Opera was here"? Just because I think he should go to jail doesn't mean I'm going to go behind Christine's back to make sure he gets there._ _He'll get himself caught somehow._ Raoul watched as Erik scratched three names out on the paper in cheap, gritty ink:

 _Henri Beaumont_

 _Marie Babineaux_

 _Gerard Butler_ _*3_

Before Raoul could even question it, the woman closed the book, stashed it away, and handed him two small keys. "You can put your horse in the stables out back. Enjoy your stay."

Erik seized his sleeve, roughly, and practically pulled Raoul up the stairs. "What in the world is going on with you?" Raoul asked. "What was all that about?" Erik marched him to room 217* and allowed him to unlock the door. "I don't know what your problem is, but you're acting really-"

The second the door was opened, Raoul's arms were pinned to his sides and Erik pushed him up against the wall, kicking the door shut. _"I knew it!"_ he hissed. "I _knew_ you would try to get me captured! You're going to lead the law right to me, aren't you?"

"What in God's name are you talking about, you paranoid psychopath?"

"Just leaving a nice little trail of breadcrumbs for the gendarmes, are you? You were going to write our names!"

"What's the harm in that? We're out of France!"

Erik knocked on his head. "Think, you foolish fop! They'll be scouring all of Europe for me now! You can't go around writing our real names! If the law came in here and saw we were here, they'd be on our trail!"

He hadn't thought of that. "Alright, it was an accident. I'm not trying to get you caught."

"Don't pretend you don't want me thrown in jail!"

"I never said I didn't. But if you're caught, Christine and I will be in trouble as well for smuggling you out of the country. As she said, like it or not, we're in this mess together."

Erik's golden eyes glared at him for a moment before finally releasing him. "Well you'll need to be more cautious."

Raoul rolled his eyes and reached for the door. " _Now_ where are you going?" Erik snarled.

"Back downstairs to ask that woman if there's a way to America. And to wait for Christine, since she won't know to say her name is Marie Babineaux." He closed the door and marched back down the stairs. The woman was back at the desk with a fresh cigar. "Excuse me, ma'am," he smiled.

"What do you need? Rat in your room?"

"... Err...no." _Mental note: Check for rats. Scratch that: Have_ Erik _check for rats._ "My friends and I are looking to travel to America. Do you know of a way we could get there?"

She thought for a minute, taking a long draw from her cigar. "I heard somewhere about a passenger ship in Hamburg heading there. Goes to New York, I think. Leaves in about two days."

"Thank you." _Philippe lives in New York. This is working out quite well._ He walked outside, unhitched Caesar from the carriage, and with great effort, practically dragged the stubborn animal to the stables. As he was grabbing the luggage, Christine came back and he explained the name changes.

"Well, it's a good thing he did that, or we'd risk giving ourselves away," she said as she walked up the stairs behind him. "Wait...are you Gerard or Henri?"

"I'm going to say Henri, though I'd prefer Gerard."

"Make sure you check with him."

"I can't even pick my own name?"

"Dear, if he wants to be Gerard, let him. There's no sense in fighting over such nonsense."

"...Very well." _Although Gerard is a much tougher sounding name than Henri._

Christine walked into her room across from his - er, his and Erik's- and when Raoul walked into his own, he was met by a strange sight. Erik was standing in the middle of the room, staring at something with a very unamused look. "Have you just been standing there the entire time?"

No response.

"...Alright then." He set the bags on the ground. "Caesar is in the stables. He put up quite a fight getting there. I don't know how you can manage that animal."

Still nothing.

"Well, aren't you good for conversation?" _Not that I enjoy it when we talk anyway._ Then, he got an idea. "Oh, Erik, while I've got you here, if it's all the same to you, I'll be Gerard. Not that it matters anyway, you just look like a Henri to me. If you agree, say nothing at all."

"Not a chance in Hell, Fop."

"Oh, come on! Why does it even matter?"

Silence again.

"What the devil are you staring at, you lunat….." He was cut off, mid-insult when he saw what Erik was glaring at.

The bed.

The _only_ bed.

 _…_ _I'm sharing a bed with the man who tried to kill me yesterday. My life has certainly taken an unsuspected turn. Guess I should try to make the best of it._ "Well… we could put a pillow in between-"

"I'll sleep outside," Erik said flatly.

Raoul rolled his eyes. "Look there's no need to make everything so dramatic. We'll just have to man up and-"

 _"_ _AAAAAAHHHHH!"_

Erik and Raoul both turned to the scream just as Christine rushed into the room, practically leaping into her fiancé's arms. "Christine! What's the matter?"

"There's a huge, disgusting, disease ridden _rat_ under my bed! I went to push my suitcase under there and all I could see was its beady red eyes!"

"It's alright, dear, just calm down. I'll get the front desk woman and she'll handle it."

But before anyone could make a move, Erik grabbed the small book off the tiny dresser and began to leave the room. "I'll get rid of it for you, my dear. This is something I've had to deal with many times."

They stood there in anticipation. "What do you think he'll do with it?" Christine asked quietly, still in shock.

"Well, it's very hard to get into Erik's mind. But from what I've seen so far, I predict two probable outcomes: One, he skins it alive, puts the head under my pillow, and eats the rest."

"Eww!"

"Or two, he looks at the rat, decides it's a beautiful creature, makes it a tiny wedding dress, and marries it."

"Raoul, that's not nice to say at all!"

 _THUMP!_

Erik walked back into the room as if nothing had happened, setting the book back in its place. "It's gone now, Christine. And I made sure the rest of the room was clean."

"...What did you do with it?" she asked.

"Bashed it in the head with that book then threw the carcass out the window. What did you think I was going to do? Ask it to marry me?"

"Oh." Christine finally released Raoul from her death grip. "Well, thank you, Erik."

"It was no trouble. There were dozens of rats under the Populaire."

"Still, it was very nice of you. Are you all settled in here?"

"Oh, yes, it seems we're going to be very comfortable here." Raoul gestured to the bed.

Christine cringed. "... It's only for one night, you two. Oh, Erik, I got a few outfits for you while I was out. I forgot to ask your size, so if they don't fit, tell me."

 _Yes! He won't have to share my clothes! My underpants are safe!_

"You didn't have to do that," he said sheepishly.

"Nonsense, you needed clothes."

"I would've given you money."

"Erik, think nothing of it. I'll get them for you."

The next few hours went by peacefully enough. Christine brought Erik the clothes while he and Raoul inspected the room for any rodents. Then they tried to piece together a plan.

"The woman at the desk said there was a passenger ship heading to America in two days. It's in Hamburg," Raoul explained. "We'll take the back roads and such into Germany to keep hidden."

"And how do you suggest we get on the ship?" Erik sneered. "I'm the most wanted man in Europe. There's a _small_ chance they might be looking for me, and a cloak won't do enough. They'd ask to see my face."

"We could disguise ourselves." Christine asked. "I guess we can come up with that on the way there. Then once we're on the boat, we just try to stay in the shadows, not draw attention to ourselves."

"And we'll depart in New York, where Phillipe is. It all works out." Although Raoul doubted things would work for Erik for long. If he wasn't captured on the journey, surely once he was away from Christine, he'd go right back to killing and exploiting.

They shared dinner and decided to turn in early. It had been quite a long day for all of them. Raoul was too exhausted to change clothes. His muscles were tired, his neck was still sore, and he was really just mentally wrecked. He kicked off his boots, pulled down the sheets- doing his best to ignore the stains- and laid down on the hard mattress. _This is going to be a fun night,_ he thought bitterly.

Erik grabbed one of their blankets, a pillow, and began to leave the room. "Where are you going?" Raoul asked.

"I told you I'd rather sleep outside than share a bed with _you."_

"Don't be so dramatic. There's no way you'll be able to catch a wink out there."

"I can't sleep next to you either, Viscount." And with that, he was gone.

 _* Alastor Mauvis is a horrible name, Mauvais translating to "Bad" in French (Google)_

 _*2 Gênant means "awkward" according to Google_

 _*3_ _Gerard Butler was the actor who played the Phantom in the 2004 film_

*4 _Room 217, the room Erik and Raoul are in, is the infamous hotel room for The Shinning_

 **A/N: So, kind of a shorter chapter, but you've now met the antagonist, Alastor. I've been working on an original story lately so I'm running out of story. Do you think Erik and Raoul will end up sharing a bed? Or will their bitterness and stubborn ways to each other ruin the plan?**


	8. Oh, Rats!

Raoul rolled his eyes. _Fine. Just means I've got the whole bed to myself._ Relieved that he wouldn't have to sleep next to a murderer who might've tried to smother him in the middle of the night, he drew up the covers and closed his eyes. He got a few hours of dreamless sleep, but woke up after. Glancing out the window, he saw the night sky through the thin, dirty curtains. He was still alone in the room. That surprised him a bit. Part of him thought that Erik would've given in after not being able to sleep and come back. But it still didn't matter to him either way.

Yet throughout the night, he continued to wake up every few hours. Erik never turned up. _He's a crazed killer who's obsessed with the woman I love. If he wants to sleep outdoors and have spiders lay eggs in his brain, or wake up with a badger lying next to him, I won't get in his way. I don't care._

The next time he woke up, it was to a loud clap of thunder.

A storm had come up. The rain pounded on the roof and window. Still, he was in bed alone. _He's going to get sick if he sleeps out there now._ No! _No, I don't care! It's his darn fault we're in this mess anyway. It's none of my concern if he gets himself sick out of his own stubbornness._

 _But Christine will be unhappy with you if he gets ill and you allowed it,_ said a small voice in his head. _And God knows he'll be even harder to deal with if he's sick._ He sighed and decided he might as well go check on him at least. He was about to use the pot in the room first, but almost screamed when he saw what was inside it. _Guess we forgot to check that part._ Raoul grabbed the umbrella he'd taken from the Manor and headed outside to the stables. The front desk woman was gone by this time. It was probably late night or very early morning.

The wind howled in his ears and nearly made him lose his grip on the umbrella in his hands. In the darkness and rain he could make out Caesar's muscular shape and the curled up lump that was lying beside him. "Erik," he whispered. "Erik, wake up."

"It's hard to wake up when you aren't sleeping in the first place."

"I told you you wouldn't...never mind. You're going to get sick out here if you stay out for much longer."

"So what? Why is that a concern of yours?"

His muscles tightened. "It's not. But we'll both get lectured by Christine in the morning if we let that happen."

"I'd rather die of pneumonia out here than have to sleep next to you."

 _Stubborn pain in the…_ "It's only for one night. I don't like it any more than you do. In fact, I'll probably hate it more."

"Go away. You're costing both of us our sleep now."

"There's no way you can fall asleep out here in the rain."

"I'm certainly going to try."

He let out an exhausted sigh. He was about to leave the infuriating man where he was when he remembered his...bladder issue. "...Erik."

 _"_ _What?"_

"...We didn't check the bathroom for rats."

"Does it really matter _now?"_

"Yes." He could feel himself blushing and was glad it was dark. "Because...remember the one you killed earlier with the Holy Bible?"

"That was a Bible? Huh." He turned onto his other side, away from the Viscount. "Chalk it up to another sin on my part, I suppose. Do you have a point, Fop, or are you just trying to annoy me now?"

"It was a mother. And six of her babies are hiding out in the bathroom in our room."

"Well tell them I'm sorry for orphaning them and let me rest."

"...Erik?"

"What the Hell is your point?"

"...I really, _really_ have to use the bathroom."

Raoul head him grumble, clearly nearing the end of his rope. "Then use Christine's."

Now Raoul had an idea. He might've just found a way to get Erik to remove the rats and stay in the Inn. "But if I knock on her door and ask to use her bathroom, she'll ask why, so I'll have to tell her. And do you know what she'll say? She'll tell me to ask you to remove the rats. And I'll have to tell her you can't, because you're out here. Then Christine will get angry because you're sleeping out in the rain and come get you. So you'll end up coming to sleep in the bed anyway. The only difference is we make Christine cranky and you get a lecture. Now, I don't know about you, but if it were me, I'd just come inside now, clean out the bathroom, and get in bed."

"...I hate you, Fop." Erik rose to his feet, patted the sleeping stallion next to him, and walked back towards the Inn. Once they were back in the room, he dried himself off, then found an empty box in the closet. "You said there were six?"

"That's how many I saw, but some might be hiding. What are you doing with that box?"

"Well I've got to put them in something, haven't I? Or would you prefer to hold and cuddle them all night?"

Raoul was taken aback a bit. "...You're not just going to get the Bible again?"

"Of course not. They're _babies._ I can't kill _babies."_

The Viscount sat on the bed, a bit surprised, as Erik went into the bathroom. _He can't kill "babies"? They're rats! Disgusting little rodents who are probably carrying the plague! What is he going to do with them? And hold on, he can kill two grown men and me almost, but he feels bad for a few_ rats? His eyes widened as realized what he'd just thought.

Erik felt bad for something.

 _He's able to feel compassion,_ Raoul thought. He didn't think the madman had that in him. Then again...he seemed to have sympathy only for young rodents. Not for people.

 _But it's something._

Erik came back out peering into the box. "There were only six. Four boys, two girls."

"Did you name them?" he teased.

"Perhaps next time I shall just let you wet yourself."

"Well, what are you going to do with them now?"

"The box is too tall for them to climb out of. They'll stay in there for the night and I'll let them go outside in the morning when we leave. After all, I _did_ kill their mother."

'With the holy scriptures."

Erik shrugged and sat down on the bed. "I'm not a religious man, Fop."

"You're an atheist?"

"Oh no. I believe there's a God up there. I just know He created me for the sole purpose of laughing at me."

"God doesn't have that kind of sick humor."

"Then I suppose He must really hate me, then."

He decided to drop the subject. It was too late for this and his bladder was about to burst. After using the rat-free bathroom, he looked at the bed. Erik was under the sheets, already asleep. He was on the edge of the bed, so much so that if he moved another inch he risked falling to the floor. The way he slept, curled up like he was, it was if he was trying to protect himself in his sleep. Raoul got in next to him and looked at the ceiling. The rats in the box seemed to be asleep as well. Everything was silent.

Raoul wished he understood the man next to him. _One day, he's trying to force Christine to wed him while yanking a lasso around my throat._ He paused and touched the sore muscles in his neck. The rope burns were still there. _And now he's saving a box of baby rats because he feels guilty about murdering their mother with the Bible. He feels bad for killing a mother rat...but not for killing Buquet and Piangi. Or for any of the other crimes he committed._

 _...At least...I don't think he does._

Before finally falling asleep, Raoul decided he'd have to watch Erik even closer than he had been. He had the feeling he wasn't understanding something. Something maybe Christine was.

* * *

Alastor scanned each of the dark, dank tunnels underneath the Populaire. The building was structurally unsound, but the gendarmes had allowed him to enter since he was part of the law. "Come now, Monsieur Phantom," he said to no one. "You got out of here somehow. Just show me how you did it." He paused for a moment and realized… this was a man he was dealing with. Not a ghost. Men had to walk.

He lowered the lantern in his hand almost to the ground and grinned at the sight. Two pairs of footprints, one male, one female. Alastor dropped to a knee and examined the male's. "These can't be his. The shoes I found in his lair were that of an averrage man's." It was one of very few things about the Phantom that could be called"average". "These are much smaller. It's hard to believe there a man's. That means he's got _two_ helpers. One man, one woman."

He followed the trail to a stone wall, where a horse magically came into the picture. Eventually, he was led to a staircase leading to the above ground. Alastor grinned, deviously. He was on his tracks. Now he'd just let Firmin, Andre, Carlotta… and a few _newspapers_ know about what he'd found, then keep on the Phantom's heels.

 **A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but they've been long lately, and again, running out of story that I have written. And for the cheesy title and late update, I honestly forgot. I got a lot going on.**


	9. Bad News Travels Fast

Erik woke up slowly, not even opening his eyes yet. He stretched his arms out slowly, and felt long soft hair. _Christine…_ he thought, dreamily. He wasn't aware that he was awake yet. To him, he was still dreaming of his precious Christine. _She's sleeping next to me. My God, her hair is like silk. What in the world does she do to it? It's so thick and straight, like she didn't move it all in her sleep._

 _...Wait...straight? Christine's hair is curly. Then...who…_

"...Erik...are you stroking my hair?"

His eyes shot open. The Viscount was staring at him, their faces much too close together. His had was entangled in the man's blonde locks. "Ahhh!" He backed up and accidentally fell right off the bed. Raoul got up and looked down at him.

"Are you okay?"

" _No!_ I was just stroking your hair!"

"I know! What in the world were you dreaming of?"

"...Nothing...None of your business!"

"I think it is since it involved my head for some reason."

Thankfully, Erik was saved by the bell. Or rather, a knock at the door. "Ra- er- Henri? Are you and Gerard alright in there?"

"We're okay, Marie. Gerard fell out of bed. He had an...interesting dream."

"Is he hurt?"

"I'm fine, Chris...Marie."

"Oh, good. Well, get dressed. We should get back on our way. I'll get the carriage and Caesar."

The two men changed into some fresh clothes. Erik looked over the new ones Christine had purchased and settled on the dark pants and long, button down, purple shirt. It felt strange on his skin. Foreign. It made him uncomfortable, and yet...yet it was very soft and warm. And if he searched for it, if he _really_ searched for it, he could smell Christine's perfume on it. _Perhaps I can get used to it,_ he thought. He put the cloak back on, grabbed the squirming box of baby rats -who were awake and lively now- and looked to the other man. The Viscount was preparing to put on his boots. Erik's eyes widened at what he saw. He couldn't help but snicker.

Raoul glared at him. "You're laughing at my feet, aren't you?...Okay, so they're a little smaller than most men!"

Erik couldn't hold his laughter back, which only angered Raoul.

"I'm a size six, so what?" His tone steadied a bit and what he said next killed Erik's laughter. "You know, those who don't enjoy the feeling of being laughed at should refrain from laughing at others."

Erik stopped and sneered at him. _What does_ he _know? After all the times people laughed at me, I think I've earned two minutes of giving it back to someone. It's only fair, right?_ "Get your bags and let's get going." He saw the Viscount smile a bit to himself, knowing he'd gotten one over on him and Erik walked down the stairs in anger.

After they'd checked out with the unattractive front desk woman- and Raoul spoke to her about getting their rat infestation under control- they found Christine seated in front of the carriage with Caesar's reigns. "Oh, Erik, you don't look good." _Tell me something I don't know._ "There's bags under your eyes. Did you not sleep well?"

"Your precious Viscount snores."

"I do not!" Raoul challenged.

"Yes, you do. Like a congested walrus." He noticed Christine trying not to laugh. It was nice that she thought he had humor.

"You don't even know what that sounds like."

"I do now, thanks to you."

"How would you know whether I snore or not? You were asleep before I was!"

"I _was,_ until you fell alseep as well, started making your walrus noises, and woke me up."

"Alright, alright," Christine said, trying to look annoyed. "Enough you two. Let's get moving."

"Just one moment," Erik told her. "I've got to take care of something."

"What is- _eek!"_ She saw what was in the box in his hands. "Erik...why do you have a box of tiny rats?"

"They were in our bathroom and he feels the need to put them somewhere safe since he killed their mother," Raoul explained.

"But won't they die anyway without her?"

"Actually, they appear to be old enough to be on their own. Wait here, I'll be right back." Erik walked down the street a bit until he found a shadowy alley. There he got on his knees and tipped the box. The rodents quickly scampered out of sight, fearful of the bright sun. _There's my good deed for the day_ , he thought, abandoning the box.

"I'll take Caesar if you want, Christine," he offered when he returned.

"Thank you, Erik. Raoul, why don't you get on top? It's quite nice up there." She looked back at Erik for a moment. "Do you mind if I sit next to you? I'd like to speak to you about something important."

Erik was taken aback a bit. That didn't sound good. _Is she perhaps angry with me again? Has she thought of something she didn't mention yesterday?_ A bit wary, Erik joined her on the front of the carriage and took the reins. "Alright, Caesar, let's go."

Once the horse had started down the road- which wasn't very busy at all, given it was still early- Christine spoke up. "It occurred to me last night that I forgot to do something very important yesterday when we were sitting under that tree."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Oh?

She nodded solemnly. "I never apologized to you."

The reins nearly fell from his hands.

"For taking off your mask I mean," she continued. "Both times. The first time, I honestly thought it was all a dream, hence my actions. But it was incredibly rude of me. The second…well, Firmin and Andre didn't give me a choice. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to humiliate you like that. Honestly I didn't." She touched his arm, sending shivers down his spine. "Can you forgive me?"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. _Christine, the beautiful, kind, angelic person is asking forgiveness from_ me? _A horrid, disgusting, murderous_ freak? _How could she even think this?_ "O-of, of course I do. You never have to worry about that."

She gave him a smile. "Thank you. You're not a bad person, Erik. In fact, when you allow yourself to let your guard down a bit, you can be as sweet as a-"

 _"_ _DEER!"_ Raoul shouted.

Erik looked back at the road and yanked the reins just as the animal raced across. Caesar neighed loudly, rearing on his back legs. All of them watched as the white-tailed doe raced into the nearby woods and out of sight. He stared into the brush still, amazed and surprised at what he'd just seen. It was really just a blur, rocketing across the road, but still what he'd seen was...he really couldn't even find words.

"If you're going to take charge of the carriage, watch the road!" the Viscount snapped. "You could've injured it, or got us into an accident trying to avoid it. Are you even listening to me?"

Still his eyes were fixed on the woods, as if he was trying to will it to come back so he could see it better. Finally, Christine's voice snapped him out of it. "Erik?" she asked with a concerned tone. "Are you alright? Did that startle you?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. No, I'm alright, thank you. It's just…" He could feel his cheeks redden. "I've never been so close to one before."

He could feel her eyes on him and again he moved uncomfortably. "Don't worry, Erik," she told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You'll get used to the world soon. Is the sunlight bothering you anymore?"

"Not much with the cloak over my head."

"That's good. You'll get used to it soon. And when you do, I bet you'll like it."

He started Caesar up again and they traveled down the gravel path. About an hour and a half later, they stopped to give the horse some water and to let Raoul go to the bathroom.

He didn't return with good news.

* * *

Raoul exited the bathroom of the small shop they'd passed by on the road, when something caught his eye: the headline on the local newspaper.

 ** _FRENCH "OPERA GHOST", KNOWN KILLER, HAD HELP IN INSANE ESCAPE_**

He could feel the color drain from his face as he began to read the article. It was his worst fear come true. He ran back to the carriage - after purchasing the paper, of course - as fast as he could. _I knew this would happen. I knew it! We should've turned him into the gendarmes, like model citizens! This could ruin our lives! If we're caught...If_ Christine _is caught..._

"Viscount, you have the bladder of a three-year-old girl," Erik sneered. "We can't stop every hour for you to use the bathroom. Can't you-"

"Don't start with me!" he shouted. "This is all your fault anyway."

"Raoul, what did I say about blaming each other?" Christine told her. But neither man really heard her.

"Lots of things are my fault, Viscount. You have to be more specific."

 _"_ _This!"_ He showed them the front page. Christine gasped and Erik grew a bit paler, something Raoul hadn't thought possible. He turned it back and began to read aloud. "'Paris gendarme Alastor Mauvis uncovered a new development in the Phantom case when he journeyed down to the catacombs of the destroyed Opera Populaire. He found two pairs of human footprints: One male, size six, and one female, also size six. Mauvis was quoted saying, 'Given the fact that the so-called Phantom wears a size nine-and-a-half, it can be deduced that he doesn't have one accomplice, but _two,_ since the male footprints don't match his.'" Raoul heard Erik curse quietly but read on. "'Gilles Andre and Richard Firmin also revealed that there were two people, one man and one woman, who had disappeared after the chandelier catastrophe. Law enforcement all over Europe has now been alerted to not only be on the lookout for the Opera Ghost, but are now searching for any leads on the whereabouts of their two prime suspects, who may be assisting the murderer: Christine Daaé, a former chorus girl at the Populaire, and its former patron, the Viscount de Chagny, who has notoriously small feet.'" _Love of God, they aren't_ that _small!_

They were all quiet for a moment. Erik suddenly got off the carriage and began to unhitch Caesar. "What are you doing?" Christine asked

"Leaving," he said simply.

 _"_ _What?"_ she shouted.

"Christine, I will not have you put in danger because of my crimes. I only allowed it to go this far because I didn't believe those fools would figure out it's you two helping me. Now that they have, this must end."

"But you'll be captured! You can't get out of this alone."

"I've caused you enough grief as it is, my dear. I will not allow you to give up your life to try to save mine."

"Erik, wait! I had a plan!"

Raoul spoke up. "Even if we split up now, they'll still be looking for us. The damage is already done. We may as well keep helping you."

"If you go back now and come up with an alibi, you'll be able to continue with your normal lives."

"They know _someone_ is helping you, Erik," he told him, taking his arm so he couldn't unhook Caesar anymore. "And we were the only people who weren't part of the mob other than the audience. They have our footprints. No alibi can clean our slates now."

Under the hood, he saw Erik's golden eyes look at the ground. He knew he was defeated. Raoul expected him to give in and get back on the carriage. _We really are all in this together now,_ he thought. _If we don't get across the sea and away from the law, we'll_ all _be in trouble. I just hope we don't get cau-_

"Turn me in."

 **A/N: Cliiiiiiiiiiiifhangerrrrrrr. :D Also, I have to limit submissions to every other week. I haven't had time to write more, but I don't want to keep you all waiting for too long. Sorry.**


	10. Hard Choices and Cross Dressing

"Turn me in."

The words hit Raoul like a brick to the face. "... What?"

"You heard me," he told him. "If you turn around now and hand me over to the gendarmes like you want, you can clear your names." Raoul could only gape at him, completely in shock. Christine seemed to be the same way. Erik continued. "You can tell them I regained consciousness and kidnapped the both of you. I'll admit to it. Then everything can go as it should be. I'll be locked away, and you two can go on with your lives. You can be married without having to worry about me interfering."

Raoul couldn't believe what he'd just heard. All he could do was stand there and look at him like a fool. It was Christine who spoke next. "Raoul, we can't! It's not right! Yes, he's a criminal, but he had his reasons! He's not just some crazed killing machine!" She rushed over to him and took her fiancé'shoulders. "We can figure this out! There's got to be a way we can get through this together and end up happy!"

"This is the only way, Christine. I won't let you go to prison with me. You've done nothing wrong. I, on the other hand, have." Erik tore his arm away from Raoul's and drew back the hood on the cloak in surrender.

Christine continued to plead and beg in his ear, but Raoul's mind was elsewhere. He was having an argument in his own mind.

 _This is your chance! You can tie him up now, head back to France, find the gendarmes and get on with life. No more Phantom of the Opera. You and Christine can be happy and get married._

 _But will she be happy? This man is her friend. She'll be extremely upset if he's locked up forever or executed. You remember how she reacted when you saw what the mob did. After losing her father, this will hurt her terribly._

 _He's a criminal! A murderer! He broke the law and now has to face the consequences._

 _Yet Christine believes he can change. She thinks there is good in him._

 _The question is:… Do_ I _think there is good in him?_

"Raoul, please! I have a basic plan, we just need to work it out! We can't go back now! They'll kill him! Or _worse!"_ Christine cried. "We can't have him thrown in jail, it's not right! Please!"

"Christine, you did your best and I thank you for that, but this is the end," Erik told her quietly. "It's my fault you are even part of this mess. If this continued and you were arrested, I would never forgive myself. That pain would be worse than anything they could do to me in prison."

"But what about your fear of cages? You may get life!"

Again, he looked to the ground. "... I suppose I shall have to attempt to overcome it. Please, don't be upset. I don't want you to get in trouble and lose everything you have because of me. You deserve to be happy."

"But don't you think _you_ do, too?"

Erik didn't answer.

And right then, Raoul made his choice. "Stay here," he told him. He went back to the shop where he'd relieved himself…and bought some rope.

When he returned, Christine was trying to convince Erik to think of some other plan, being the genius he was. She saw Raoul and tears came to her eyes. "No. There has to be something we could do."

"Lotte," he told her, using the nickname to calm her. "Trust me." He turned to face Erik, who held his wrists out. Raoul drew a knife from his belt and cut off a part of the rope. He bound the masked man's hands tightly in front of him. Caesar neighed and nickered in protest. "Get on the carriage. I'll drive."

Christine tried to argue with Raoul again, but he insisted she got on top of the carriage and she'd understand. Erik sat next to Raoul in front, staring at his feet. "Alright Caesar," the Viscount said. "... Onward."

Erik finally looked at him. The horse stared at him for a moment, then went on.

"Oh, Raoul!" Christine cheered.

He could tell by Erik's face that he'd caught on. "You're heading to Germany still. To that boat going to America!"

"Yes, I am."

 _"_ _Why?"_ he yelled, outraged. "You've wanted me to rot in jail this entire time!"

"Do I not have the right to change my mind?"

"You're putting her in danger! You're risking everything on the _minute chance_ that this can end well! _"_

"It seems I am."

Erik snarled, shooting daggers at him. "Well, if you won't do it, I'll have to give _myself_ up! I won't have Christine go down with me!"

"She won't. I'll make sure of that."

" _You'll_ make sure of-"

"And you aren't going anywhere without us," Raoul interjected.

"Just try and stop me, you foolish Fop!"

He smiled. "I already did. Why do you think I tied your hands? It's harder to run." Erik's head looked like it might explode. He'd been _outsmarted._ "And don't even think about jumping out of the carriage or sneaking off in the night. If you do, I'll find you and drag you back."

 _"_ _Why the Hell are you doing this?"_

"Think of it this way: The kidnapp _er_ has become the kidnapp _ed."_

Erik shouted to Caesar, ordering him to stop, but the horse kept on to Germany. "Your friend doesn't want you to go to jail," Christine told him, laughing.

"You're going to regret this," he told Raoul. "There's no possible way this can go as planned. You'll lose everything!"

Raoul merely pulled the man's hood back up and looked at the road. "It's not smart to distract the driver. Now stop pouting. Christine? What was that you said about having a plan of sorts?"

"Oh, right, right," she nodded. "Well… like I said, it's still basic. But now with this newspaper, we really need to disguise ourselves if we want to get on this ship. So, last night around two in the morning, I had this crazy thought. But that paper makes it seem not so crazy.

"See, they're on the lookout for two men, you and Erik, and one woman, me. Well… what if we got on the boat… as… two women and one man?"

He pulled Caesar to a stop and slowly turned to face her. "... You're suggesting we cross dress? Make Erik a woman?"

"That's insane! It would never work!" the masked man shouted. "I'd just look like a wanted criminal in a dress!"

"Why don't you shout the words 'wanted criminal' a little louder and draw some attention our way?" Raoul snapped.

"Actually, dear," Christine said sheepishly. _"I_ would be the man. You'd be dressed in drag as well. You're too recognizable as the Viscount and they'll be looking for you as well. I played a man before in _Il Muto._ I could just stay silent the whole time so no one would know."

Raoul was a bit in shock. He wasn't really liking this plan. "... What about Erik's mask? He'd have to wear it or they'd know it was him."

"You could both wear one. More feminine ones," she said. "We could say you're um...performers. _Dancers._ And you're in costume. That way no one will question it. Oh! And I can be your manager."

"A _mute_ manager? Don't dance managers have to speak?"

"I could write things down."

"And we're getting on a ship to America becaaauuussse?"

"Because...you have a show there. In New York. The only thing we'd have to do would be stay out of the public eye, really. Just not draw too much attention to ourselves."

"You want us to pretend to be women and you think that won't draw attention."

"Erik's an actor. He can play a woman. Can't you, Erik?"

He just sort of...sat there, gaping mouth, completely in shock of what was happening.

Christine kept going. "And I could teach you some things. But I really think you'll be fine as long as you really stay away from people...What do you think? All we have to do now is you two should come up with names and basic backstories in case anyone starts conversation, and I'll buy you some dresses and masks and such when we stop in Hamburg. The ship doesn't leave until tomorrow."

Raoul pondered this for a minute and kindly shut Erik's jaw for him. _What's happened to my life?_ "Well...It's crazy. And yet, it might be crazy enough to work." He waited for a minute, thinking Erik would have something to say about this. But it seemed his brain wasn't really working at the moment. Shrugging, he told Caesar to go on, content that it would at least be peaceful for a while.

 **A/N: I torture the characters I like. Get ready to learn how to walk in heels, Erik and Raoul.**


	11. Honest Conversations

They'd crossed the border into Germany successfully. Erik hardly noticed. His mind was completely boggled. What had just happened? _This whole time, the Fop has wanted to have me thrown in jail. I literally_ surrendered _, gave him what he wanted...and he_ rejected _it? Excusez-moi, but did I not nearly kill this man a few days ago? Most people who have that happen to them want their would-be-killers behind bars, not_ sitting next to them. _What made him suddenly change his tune? Christine's pleading? It makes no sense!_ Erik didn't like things he couldn't understand.

 _And now he's agreed to go along with this half-baked plan to stick me in a dress and try to get out of the country. Like_ that _will work. The only difference will be that I go to prison in high heels and a corset. This is foolish._ He considered trying to run off and turn himself in, for Christine's safety. But he honestly didn't know how to get back to France on foot. And what about Caesar? He couldn't just leave him with the Viscount.

It seemed he really had no choice but to go along with what was going on. But he certainly didn't have to like it.

"You've grown very quiet," the long-haired man observed. By this time, Christine had gone in the carriage to rest after all the, well, _insanity._ It was just Erik, Raoul and Caesar. And one of those three wasn't too talkative when he was pulling a carriage.

"What exactly would you like me to say, dear Viscount?" he snapped.

"It just makes me think you're plotting something."

Erik gazed up to the gray, cloud-filled sky, half hoping a bolt of lightning would be nice enough to strike him down. The other man must've noticed because the next thing he said was, "Do you suppose it will rain again?"

He considered ignoring him, but since they were going to be stuck together for an entire boat trip - if they managed to get on board, that was- he may as well answer the idiotic question. "The clouds are not terribly dark. More of a light gray. They probably aren't heavy enough to produce a downpour. Perhaps a few minutes of light rain, but I doubt very much it would be anything like last night."

"You truly are a very intelligent man."

That caught him off guard. There wasn't a trace of sarcasm in that sentence! "...You think I'm smart because I can take a guess at the weather?"

"I think you're smart for a number of reasons."... _Has Christine perhaps drugged him?_ "It's a shame you don't use that brain power for good rather than schemes and plots."

He snorted, growing sick of this conversation already. "Well, if I am so evil, why did you insist on not handing me over to the gendarmes when I told you to?"

"Perhaps I simply live to do the opposite of everything you wish."

 _There_ was the sarcasm he was missing earlier. Erik turned away, knowing the man wasn't going to really give him an answer. A few minutes of silence went by, with only the sound of the light breeze and Caesar's hooves to break it up. Finally, Raoul spoke up again.

"If I answer your question seriously, will you do the same with mine?"

Erik turned back, skeptical. "That depends."

Apparently, that was good enough for him. "Very well. This entire time, I have been seeing you as nothing but a crazed, murderous criminal." _Of course,_ the masked man thought bitterly, _that's how nearly everyone sees me._ "Yet, when I read that paper, and you realized how seriously Christine could be in trouble, you were willing to surrender yourself. After years and years of evading the law."

"What is your point?" He'd wanted an answer, not a speech.

"It made me think for a moment." _A moment was all your brain could handle._ "You would turn yourself in, face potential execution or life in prison - even with this phobia you apparently have - for the sake of Christine's safely. You told her anything that was done to you in jail would be preferable to having us all caught with you." _Having_ her _get caught with me._ You _can throw yourself off a bridge for all I care._ "I realized that how much you care about her must reach past insane obsession, and be something sincere. So I made my choice: anyone who is willing to rot in jail for the sake of someone else...can't be _all_ bad."

"So you're overlooking the murders and extortion because you realize I love Christine?"

"'Overlooking' isn't the right word for it. I still think you're a crazed killer who has an obsession with my future bride… but you've gone from ninety-nine percent evil in my mind to about an eighty-seven. Maybe if we do this for you, you'll be down to a solid fifty."

Erik grinned wickedly. "Awww," he mocked. "So nice to know the Viscount de Chagny thinks I can change my ways."

"I didn't say that."

"Are you growing _soft?"_

"I have half a mind to push you off this carriage." _He has_ half _a mind? That's more than I thought he possessed._ "And don't think for a second this means I don't hate you," Raoul continued. "All this means is that there's an _iota_ of good in you."

"So you _don't_ think I can change?" he teased.

"Do _you?"_

Silence returned. Erik looked away but could feel his stare. "... Didn't you say you wanted to question me?" Erik asked, hoping to get off the current topic.

"Yes. Why did you kill those men?"

"I already told Christine this."

"Tell me."

He sighed and went back into the story of how Buquet was chasing him and Piangi's plot to get rid of Christine. "Why would he want to do that?" Raoul asked. "It was you who was causing the trouble, she was just the victim."

 _Victim. As if I abused her._ "He was courting La Carlotta. You can't expect him to be all that bright."

"What did you feel?"

"What?"

"When you killed them. Were you angry? Happy?"

He glared at the man. "Are you asking me if I _enjoy_ murder?"

"I'm simply asking what you felt when you did it."

"Nothing!" he snapped. "I felt nothing!"

"You can't feel nothing."

"It was…" he paused, trying to compose himself. "It was like I was watching myself do it. Some sort of…. Out of body experience."

"...Did you like what you saw?"

"I'm not some sick sociopath who's out for blood."

Raoul quickly changed topic. "Why did you let us go?"

"I already told Christine this, too. Can't you just ask her? I despise repeating myself."

"Put it in a few words."

"I realized what I was doing and didn't want to force her to love me."

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"Didn't we just establish that I don't enjoy that?"

"But you hate me."

"I wasn't too fond of Buquet the perverted chorus girl chaser or Piangi the… er… Piangi, either." He cut him off before he could ask another question. "Why didn't _you_ kill me in the cemetery?"

He hesitated for what seemed like an eternity. "Christine told me not to. I was about to, but she stopped me. It's astounding how even after all you did to her, she still finds a way to care about you."

"After everything I...I was there when the chorus girls shunned her for her talent! When the managers wouldn't give her a decent role! I comforted her in the darkness when she was crying for her father! Where were _you?"_

Before he could blink, Raoul seized him by his shirt and pulled him to his face. "Now listen here," he growled. "Christine has been my best friend since we were children. When her father died, she had no choice but to leave. I was only a boy and had no knowledge of where she was. How was I supposed to be there for her when I didn't know where 'there' was?"

They stared at each other until he finally released him. They rode along a bit more before speaking again. "We should start coming up with our roles. They've got to be detailed if we're going to pass as women."

"This plan won't work," Erik growled.

"Not with that attitude it won't. Don't you ever have something good to say?"

"What good is there to speak of?"

Raoul sighed and got the conversation back on track. "Christine said we should pose as dancers. Can you do that?"

"Anything you can do, I can do."

He saw the man roll his eyes. "Very well. What's our relationship? Cousins? Family friends? I mean we really don't look alike."

Erik bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything about their differing "looks".

"You should be sisters," said the carriage.

Both men turned around. "I thought you were asleep," they said in unison.

"I was," Christine told them, "But I woke up to the sweet sound of male bonding."

"We're not bonding!" Now they were shouting in unison.

"Awww, that is so adorable," Christine cooed. Raoul stopped the carriage and she got back on top of it.

"How much did you hear? Stop that! Stop saying everything I'm saying!" Raoul finally yelled "Potatoes!" as Erik shouted "I hate you!" The masked man gave him an odd look. "Why did you say-?"

"I needed something strange that you wouldn't say to make us stop speaking in sync."

 **A/N: Oh, how does one even begin to describe Piangi? Sorry for the sort of abrupt ending. I meant to reveal the cross-dressing names in this one, but then it would've been REALLY LONG. So I decided to just end it on a funny note. I smell** ** _bonding._** **:D**


	12. Family Photos and Manuscript Paper

"Anyway," Christine said as Raoul got Caesar going again. "I think you should be sisters because then you'll have no choice but to act close and be nice to each other."

"Not all sisters have good relationships." Erik grumbled. "In fact, some sisters may kill the other sister for stealing the person she loves from her!"

"I didn't _steal_ her. She _chose_ to be with me."

"Now, now, no arguing," The curly-haired woman ordered. "You were just having a decent conversation. And you _would_ have a good relationship as sisters because fighting would draw attention to us, and no matter how much we may disagree, we all know we need to avoid too many eyes on us."

Erik glared at the Viscount and saw he was doing the same to him. "Look," Christine sighed. "Up to this point, the two of you have tried to kill and or trap the other person every time you've made eye contact. If we want to get out of this situation with our lives and our sanity intact, the both of you need to learn to get along. And the first step to that is to have a _good_ experience with each other to balance out all the bad ones you've had. If you get on this boat pretending to be sisters, you'll have to act like you like each other. Like the other person is someone you really care for. Who knows? When we depart in America, you might not be acting anymore." Neither man liked that idea, and it must've shown on their faces because she added, "If this goes right, we get to a new country where you won't ever have to see or even _think_ of each other ever again. If we mess it up somehow, you two become cellmates. It's your decision."

"That's an impossible choice." Erik told her.

"It's called 'irony'. You made me have to make a hard decision, now I'm doing it to you."

Raoul sighed. "I suppose I can pretend we're siblings." Erik didn't answer, so he went on. "What should our names be?"

"Why don't you name each other?" Christine suggested. "That way you'll both recall them easily."

"Fine." The Viscount began. "Perhaps they would be simple to remember if we keep the first letter in our real names the same."

"That narrows it down to 'E' and 'R' names." _Which mean I cannot make his name Foppet. What a shame._

"I'm aware of that. I'm not an idiot." _Could have fooled me._ "What about Elisamarie?"

"Too long." he pouted, attempting to make this _horrid_ situation very difficult.

"Elaine?"

"That's much too ordinary. If you call it, you'll have five women looking at you. Well, four women and myself."

"You're only using it for the time being. Must you make everything so hard?"

"If you want me to be able to remember it, you have to make it something that stands out."

"What do you want me to call you? Eglantine?"

"You have gone back to long names. And ugly ones at that."

"Well it would be rather fitting, considering-"

"Raoul! Don't you dare!" Christine snapped. Though Erik already knew the rest of the sentence. _A hideous name for a hideous man dressed as an extremely hideous woman._

He heard the Viscount take a deep breath to calm himself, then went back to suggesting things. "How about Evelyn? It was my great grandmother's."

"...Very well." He hugged his knees as best as he could with his hands still tied, regretting the fact that he'd made that so complicated. _It is not my fault that he chose horrible names. I can only hope he allows Christine to choose the names for their childr -_ He stopped, mid-thought. He had actually thought about the Viscount having children with his Angel! Before he could stop it, his mind conjured up a picture of all of them: His arm around her slim figure, which had been untouched by the many children at their feet. Most of them resembled their father, but one or two had her hair. It was a horrible picture of their large, laughing family. But the worst part was her smile. Christine's beautiful, radiant smile.

She was happy.

Happy that she'd married her precious Viscount, had given herself to him many times, had carried his children… and happy they'd left poor Erik at the docks the second they arrived in America. Just dumped him in a new country to fend for himself while they lived happily ever after. _She wouldn't do that,_ said a small voice in his mind. _She would at least bid you a proper farewell. She would not just… abandon you._

 _...Would she?_

"Erik?" Christine's voice shot him back to reality. "Are you with us?"

"Hmm?"

"You still have to give Raoul his name."

"Can't I just chose my own?" The Viscount complained. "You know he'll just make it something awful."

"You gave him his, so it's only fair he gives you yours. And after than comment you nearly made, I wouldn't be surprised if he called you-"

"Rose." he interjected, wanting nothing more than for everyone to be silent.

"...What?"

"Your female name is Rose. It's short, simple, and easy to remember."

"...Alright." he said. "What about our surname?"

"Well, my mother's maiden name, according to Father, was Gervais." His fiancé suggested.

"Rose and Evelyn Gervais it is, I suppose." Raoul nodded. "We can say we were born in Paris and learned to dance and perform at young ages. We met our manager-"

"Monsieur Gustave." Christine said, using her father's name.

"We met Monsieur Gustave about ten years ago, and have been traveling the world to perform our act ever since."

"Which is older? Rose or Evelyn?"

"I am." Raoul and Erik said together again.

"I'm biologically older than you. It makes sense." The masked man told him.

"I have an older brother, I know how they act."

"But you're a _sister."_

Christine cleared her throat. "No. More. Arguing. Now, which one of you was Gerard back at the Inn?"

"I was."

"Then please let Raoul be older. That way it's fair." Erik was about to speak, but she cut him off. "But in exchange...you can pick all of our fake names at the next Inn. And Raoul, you're only older by a year."

"Don't you think it would be a bit odd to have him be older when I'm taller than him?" Erik pleaded.

"Just because someone's older doesn't automatically mean they're the tallest. Is that good enough for the both of you?"

"...Yes, Christine." he mumbled. He saw the Viscount blow her a light kiss, which she caught, and his stomach churned. _This trip is going to be the death of me, one way or another._

Raoul let the man be for the rest of the time until they reached the Amical Inn in Hamburg. They'd let Christine off at a shop nearby so she could find the dresses they needed and other supplies. He had been as silent as death itself ever since they worked out the backgrounds of Rose and Evelyn. _Clearly that upset him. Dear God, he's like a child in a man's body. Always pouting and arguing when he doesn't get his way._ He stopped the carriage and turned to him. "How many rats do you suppose this one has?" he asked light-heartedly. _If we're going to be stuck on a boat together, we may as well attempt to be civil._ Erik merely glared at him and turned his attention to his boots. Raoul rolled his eyes and was about to get out of the carriage when he realized the other passenger wasn't moving. He was about to say something when he realized Erik had a good reason. It's difficult to go anywhere when your hands are tied in front of you.

Raoul looked him in the eyes even though the other man wouldn't meet him. "Have you given up on turning yourself in?"

"I do not have much of a choice considering I would not know how to get back."

"Then I have your word you will not attempt anything?"

"Yes. You have my word."

"Very well," he said, a bit skeptical. The former Phantom seemed a bit...deflated. He got the feeling that whatever was on his mind was more than he knew. He figured a bit of distance would fix it. With that, he took the ropes and began to untie him. "I'm _trusting_ you. Do not make me regret it." Surprisingly, Erik didn't respond.

They checked into the Inn, which seemed much nicer that the previous one in Belgium, and Raoul handed Erik the pen to write their fake names. It was part of the deal, after all. He took it slowly, and scribbled down:

 _Beauregard Davaiu_

 _Bella Matilda_

 _Bernard Martin_

 _I can only assume I'm the first one._

"How many rooms will you need? There's one bed in each room." said the high-pitched woman at the desk. Thankfully, she spoke their language.

Raoul told her three and paid for the night. He then asked her what time the boat to America was leaving and confirmed its location.

I'll get Caesar, you get the bags." Erik grumbled. The second the carriage was out of the way and the horse was in the stables, Erik went to his room - which was across from Raoul's and next to Christine's - said he needed to rest and to not disturb him.

Raoul nodded and went to his own room, laying on the bed. _This is some situation we've got ourselves in. We're traveling with a wanted criminal across the sea… and we're cross dressing. I never thought this would happen to me._ He yawned. The last few days had certainly taken their toll…. _I wonder if Christine feels like this._

 _She probably feels worse. Erik is someone she cares about, yet it's probably hard to just erase all he's done. She's forgiven him, but… it's still in her mind. And at any moment, we could all go to jail. She really_ is _in danger. My poor Lotte, she must be scared. I know I am._ Suddenly, he got an idea to make her better. Even for just a few minutes. Raoul shot up from the bed, left and locked the room, then looked to the one across from him. "Bernard," he called, knocking lightly.

"Did I not ask you to leave me be?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm going out into the town for a while. If Chris- _Bella,_ comes back before me, tell her where I am."

"I shall tell her you were dismembered by a band of Norwegian Pirates who broke into the Inn and that your remains were fed to the many rodents across Europe."

"... I will be quick."

"Don't touch my horse."

He left the Inn, glad to give the irritable man his much needed space, and strolled down the streets to the music shop they'd passed that only he seemed to notice. After a few minutes, he found what he'd come for. _I just hope I know how to play it still. How many years has it been since I've had time for this?_ As he walked to the counter with francs in hand, he caught sight of some blank parchment paper one would use to write music on. Raoul tapped his foot a little, thinking things over. _Well...it's going to take about nine days to get to New York on the ship...at least he'll have something to do_ other _than anger me._ He purchased one package of the paper and his new instrument. _I hope this will make Christine smile._

 **A/N: TA DAAAAA! :D**


	13. Sulking and Serenading

Erik sat on the side of the bed, staring at the floor. The image of Christine smiling with her new family refused to leave him. Sometimes he really hated his mind. It was clear to him now. All this time, since he'd woke in that carriage, he'd been so overjoyed to be with her again. But now he realized that these next few days would be the last ones he'd share with his Angel. She did not love him, and she would never leave her Viscount. That picture in his mind would soon become reality.

He decided that it would be better if Christine simply pretended he was not there. They would all get on the boat, go to America, and they would never have to see him again. That would be that. All of this Christine being nice to him and caring about him only made his love for her stronger. And that was a love that could never be.

 _Why torture myself like that? It would be best if I no longer existed to her._

 _I'm sure she will forget me soon, anyhow._

* * *

Christine finally left the final shop, carrying many boxes. It certainly was a challenge to find dresses that would fit men. And even harder to find men's clothes to fit _her._ But she was relieved when she finally made it back to the Amical Inn with all she needed. "Two of my friends checked in here earlier," she told the front desk woman. "One had long hair and the other wore a cloak."

"Oh, yes, I remember them. You must be Bella."

"That would be me." she smiled, knowing that she'd be under a different name. The woman handed her a key, but her hands were full. "...Could you umm...put it in my mouth?" She hesitantly obliged and Christine held it in between her teeth.

"Your friends are in the rooms across from you and diagonal."

She nodded, since that was all she really could do, and found her room number. The boxes hit the floor a bit hard, and she was thankfully she hadn't got anything fragile. After bringing them inside, she decided to check on Raoul. _God knows this whole thing hasn't been easy for him. Here we are, assisting the man who almost killed him. I should make sure he's alright._ She knocked on his door, but no one came to open it. "Raoul?" She didn't know what his alias was. "Are you in there?"

"He's gone out into town," said the door across the hall. "He told me to tell you."

"Oh," she turned to Erik's room. "Thank you. Did he say why?"

"I did not question him."

"Oh," she repeated. _I wonder what he's doing. But it sounds like I have someone else to take care of right now._ "Are you alright? You sound sad."

"...I'm fine."

She was not convinced. "May I come in, then?" When no answer came, she slowly opened the door. Erik was sitting on the side of the bed, hugging his knees. She noted that he seemed to do that whenever he was upset. The curtains were drawn to keep out the sunlight. The clouds had gone by now. "It's quite dreary in here. Is the light still bothering you?"

Still no response. Christine walked along the creaky floor and sat by him, but not too close. She wasn't sure what was wrong with him. _Well, apart from the fact that he's a criminal, was beaten by a mob, and burned his home._ "Erik, won't you tell me what the matter is?"

"...Please just leave me alone."

That caught her off guard. Was this not the man that was stalking her a few months ago? Who made her a handmade wedding gown? _The stalking was bad, but the dress was actually very beautiful. What in the world is making him act this way?_ "Have I done something?"

"...Yes...no. Just…go away."

"Raoul didn't upset you while I was shopping did he?"

"No."

"Then what's wrong? Why don't you tell me?"

"Christine, for the last time, just go away and forget I'm here! You're going to forget me in a few weeks anyhow, so why not start early?"

Now she was _very_ confused. "Forget about you? Why would you think I would forget about you?"

"Once you get off this boat you will be able to have everything you've ever wanted, everything you've always deserved without me getting in the way. You'll have your lover, and you'll be married, live a lavish life, and soon be caring for… baby Viscounts!

"Why would you even pay me a thought when you will be so happy? I, who've only kept you away from the man you love because of the foolish thought that you would perhaps love me instead? No, you will forget I even exist. And it will be for the best, for every moment you are near me, you are in danger because I'm a criminal. You may as well start forgetting about me now. Just pretend I'm some luggage in the carriage and once you get to America, you won't have to see me again."

She didn't know what to say. Babies? Where had this come from? She did the only thing she could think of: whacked him in the head with a pillow.

"Ow!" He finally faced her. "What did you-"

"I'm getting very sick of you wallowing in self-pity like a hog in mud!" she told him, her anger rising. "You're _not_ a piece of garbage, a piece of luggage, or whatever else you believe you are other than a man! And I will not simply forget about you. You are my friend and someone I care about." He stared at her and her voice softened. "Yes, I'm in love with Raoul. I believe I always will be. But that does not mean you are nothing just because I'm not in love with you. You were there for me for years, and how could I simply forget that?"

"Even if you don't intend to, after this you will never see me again. I will slip away over time."

 _So that's why he's upset. He's going to miss me and he's scared I'll be too busy to even think of him. But it's true. I won't forget about him, but we won't see him again._ Suddenly, she got an idea and smiled. "You could write to me."

She wasn't sure his golden eyes could get any bigger. "What?"

"I could ask Raoul for Philippe's address. And when we find our own place to live, I can tell you that as well. That way you can stay in contact with me. As long as you tell me where you are in turn so I know where to write to. We both know the infamous Phantom of the Opera does love to write notes."

"...Y...You would...still want me in your life?"

"Of course, Erik. You really must understand that you're one of my dearest friends. Why wouldn't I?"

He stared at her in absolute shock, frozen to the core. She smiled a bit and started to reach out for him. Suddenly, he gasped and backed up a bit. _What did I do?_ "Erik, what's the matter?" she asked. "I'm only trying to give you a hug."

"... Y...you want to…?" He couldn't complete the sentence. Hesitantly, he crept back over to her. She gently wrapped her arms around him, but his body stayed as solid as a rock.

"You're shaking," she observed.

"I… I'm not used to this. No one but you has ever dared to...to _hug_ me."

 _He's never received a simple embrace?_ It baffled her. "You are welcome to hug back if you want."

Slowly, he started to melt into her, resting his head on her shoulder. His trembling arms embraced her, holding her as if she were made of china. She rubbed his back a little, happy she'd solved the mystery and made him feel better. "Erik," she began. "You know I would never hurt you on purpose, don't you?"

"Of course, Christine," he mumbled, half of his mouth covered by her shoulder.

"Then why did you react that way?"

"It wasn't that I thought you would attack me. Your hands just moved so fast, my body's first reaction was to move away. I didn't know what you were doing."

Suddenly, soft, sweet music filled her ears. It sounded like a violin or something close to it. _It's like it's right outside the door._ She broke away from the hug and listened to the relaxing melody. "Do you hear that?" Erik asked. She nodded as realization hit her. Her face brightened and she grinned. _He didn't. Where in the world did he get a violin? God, he's just full of surprises._ She got up from the bed and opened the door, grinning. Sure enough, Raoul was leaning against the wall, playing a song. She stood there and smiled widely until he finished.

"Should I play another one?" he asked.

"How do you remember how to do that?"

"I learned from your amazing father."

"But that was _years_ ago. Raoul, you amaze me."

"Anything to make you happy, Christine."

She smiled and kissed his cheek, lightly. "I cannot wait until we are married."

"We'll have it arranged once we're in America."

"Shouldn't we move out of your brother's house first?"

He groaned. "Philippe."

"I know you two aren't the closest, but he's your brother. Now, we should all eat something. And we should be asleep early. When does the boat leave again?"

"Six in the morning. It's not far."

"But we have to get up early so we can get dressed. And you and Erik will need help with makeup and such."

"Yes, that reminds me. I got something for him."

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay, my computer is broken. Hope the hugging wasn't weird. Erik isn't scared of Christine, years of abuse made him fear sudden movements. How will Erik like Raoul's little gift? :D**


	14. Late Night Mishaps

He'd been savoring every second of that hug when that music had begun. Erik could count on one hand how many he'd received such a touch. He only needed two fingers, and both times it had been Christine giving it to him. Once we she'd kissed him under the Opera house to save the Viscount, and once a few minutes ago. Then that music had started to play. It was quite good, he had to admit. A bit rusty, but soothing to the soul.

Until the musician was revealed, of course.

Erik stayed on the bed, catching bits and pieces of the Viscount and Christine's conversation: Marriage, America, and Philippe, none of it mattered to him. Well...the last two don't. His blood began to boil. The Fop is using music to make her happy! Music is what I do! That's how I connect with Christine! He's not supposed to know how to play the violin! It's not even that good! he shouted mentally, contradicting his previous thoughts.

He sat there, seething, until he heard footsteps. He got up quickly, his mood brightening, thinking it was Christine. He was disappointed. The Viscount stood in front of him with a blank face. Before Erik could even open his mouth, he held something out to him. "... What's this?"

"A venomous spider," The man told him. "It's musician's paper. I figured you could keep yourself occupied on the boat. In case you got any um… inspiration."

He stood there, puzzled for a moment. No one really bought things for him other than Madame Giry and Christine. And apart from a special occasion, when the Madame would give him some sort of gift, that was when he'd asked for something. No one had ever really taken it upon themselves to think "Hmm, I think Erik would like this."

"Are you going to take it or have I tainted it with my touch?"

He took the stack of paper but still felt this was very strange. Christine cleared her throat loudly and he looked at her. She glared at him the way mothers do their children. Erik caught on and looked back at the Viscount. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." And the man left the room without another word.

"I suggest you eat something," Christine told him. "Don't stay up late, we have to be up quite early. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go talk to Raoul."

* * *

Raoul held the door open for his fiancé as she walked inside his room. "It was very nice of you to get that for him." she smiled.

"Well, anything to keep him busy on this trip."

"Oh, it was more than that and you know it. You thought of him. You wanted to do something kind for him."

"Lotte, this man tried to kill me the other day."

"I think you're both starting to put the events of the Populaire in the past."

"Only because I'm reassured by the fact that he will be out of our hair once we're off this boat."

"Stop trying to deny it. You would prefer a friend to an enemy any day."

"Friends? With the former Phantom? Christine, I'm not sure if he knows the meaning of the word."

She frowned. "He really doesn't actually. It must've been terribly lonely under the opera house. All he really had was Caesar. See, I just spoke to him while you were out. He was very worried about the fact that we would split up once we were in America."

His eyes widened. She's not going to suggest he stay with us, is she? We're risking enough as it is!

"I told him I could give him the address where we'd be staying so he could write to us, and let him know when we moved somewhere. But...Raoul he was so panicked. He sees me as the only person who is ever nice to him, other than Madame Giry. He cannot go on with his life thinking that it's him against the world."

"Well...what do you want to do to help him?" Raoul asked cautiously.

"It's nothing I'm going to do alone," she explained. "I can't. He needs someone else to show him that he's not a monster. That he's like everyone else. To let him know that somewhere out there are people who accept him. Who like him. Or else he'll never try connecting with anyone else. How would he get a job?"

"You want me to help-"

"Yes." she said, cutting him off. "And the first thing you both have to do is put the past behind you. Yes, he did bad things. But that's all over now. He's going to change. But… but he needs us to assist him. Needs you."

"Why me?"

"It can't just be me alone. Please, Raoul?" she pleaded. "He truly is a good person. He just… does not trust. He believes everyone but me is against him. Show him you aren't. Just try it, dear. He'll surprise you, I know it."

He contemplated this for a while.

"Do you remember those two questions he wouldn't answer today?' she asked after a minute.

"... No," he admitted.

"When he was going to turn himself in, I asked if he thought he deserved to be happy. He didn't respond. Because he doesn't think so, dear. What sort of person thinks they aren't good enough to have happiness? And again, you asked if he thought he could change. He's not sure. He told me he would try but… it's like he's… afraid of what happens if he does. Will the world allow him to change?" She took his hands. "Please. I know I've asked too much of you already. But… he won't succeed alone."

Raoul sighed. "Alright. I'll try."

"The paper was a great start. I know he can do it, dear. We just have to show him that he can. Who knows? Perhaps you will find you aren't that different at all."

* * *

Erik passed the rest of the day by with Caesar and his own thoughts. Christine gave me a hug, and the Fop gave me paper when I didn't request it. Christine can be understood. She is… a friend. He sighed at the thought, smiling a bit. He liked having another friend that wasn't a horse or busy dance teacher. But the Fop? He hates me! And I hate him! What brought this on? Did Christine say something to him? No, she had no knowledge of where he was going. He did it himself.

But why?

After a long time puzzling over the question, he chalked it up to the fact that he was simply giving him something to shut him up the rest of the journey. The Viscount would never do something nice for him just because. Why would he?

The night came quickly, the sky turning a dark shade of blue. Though he wasn't tired, Erik did as Christine ordered and got into the bed in the room - after checking for bedbugs. He removed his mask for the first time since the Viscount had given it to him in the carriage. It had irritated him very much, having it on so long, but he would not expose Christine to the horror of his face. That and he'd had to share a bed with the Viscount last night, so he could not remove it then either.

The mattress was hard and uncomfortable on his back, which was a bit better, but still hurt. Hours whittled by as his mind insisted on keeping him up. He tried to plan out what would happen tomorrow: They would get into their disguises, attempt to get on the boat, and from there, they were out of trouble. I just hope the dress I have to wear isn't hideous on me. It's bad enough being the most disgusting creature on the planet. I'd rather not be the most revolting thing in a dress as well.

The Fop will probably look nice as a woman, he's so feminine anyhow.

He was very tired now, the lack of sleep he got in the stables the night before catching up to him. It was about midnight now and he couldn't get comfortable in bed. It creaked and moan under him as he tossed and turned. Just as he'd found a decent position and closed his eyes, there was a shout from the room across from him. Not Christine's, the room on the other side.

"That was wonderful!" shouted a woman with a loud, shrill voice. "Your wedding is truly the best day of your life!"

"My feet are still sore from dancing," said a man. "That certainly was a magical night."

"One we'll never forget."

You'll be divorced in three years tops, sweetheart, Erik told her in his head.

"I love you so much, honey. So much, my heart may explode right this moment."

Could it? Then I could get some sleep.

"Oh, dear." she swooned.

"Oh, darling." They began to kiss loudly.

Oh, Hell, Erik grumbled.

"Come now," the man said, huskily. "We should go to bed."

At least they'll be silent now.

"Let us consummate our marriage on this beautiful night."

"Oh yes, dear. Yes."

Erik's eyes widened. Is this truly happening right now? No, I'm merely dreaming. I just need to wake up. He reached over and pinched his arm, hard.

Nothing happened.

Through the wall, he heard the creaking of a bed. "Here, let me get this wedding gown off of you."

"Oooh, your hands are warm."

The sheets were thrown to the floor as Erik rushed out of the room. He couldn't stand it! He would not listen to two strangers… partake in that activity. But then he stood in the pitch black hallway, wondering where he'd sleep now.

He couldn't share a bed with Christine. An unmarried man and woman sleeping next to each other? It was unheard of! And he couldn't sleep outside again.

It seems I have only one other option.

He crossed the hall and tried the knob on the Viscount's room. It was unlocked. Idiot.

* * *

Raoul cascaded across the air, staring into Christine's eyes. He was dreaming of dancing with her in the sky from cloud to cloud. She laughed as he spun her around. Oh, to hold her in my arms and make her happy. I wish it could always be like this. Wish we could always be happy and in love. We will be. Nothing will keep us apart.

They danced and danced, their feet floating over the puffy white clouds. Christine grinned and looked up at him. "Fop?" she asked.

"...Wh...what did you-?"

"Wake up, you fool."

"Christine! Why are you saying this?" He'd thought they'd been having a nice time.

The happy expression was suddenly replaced with a very angry one. She glared at him menacingly, snatching her hands out of his. "You darned congested walrus, you're taking up too much of the bed."

Too much of the...congested walrus….Wait. The only one person who's called me that is- His eyes snapped open, taking a minute to adjust to the darkness of his room. A figure was looming over him. He couldn't see his face, but who else could it be? "Erik?" he asked, groggy still.

"No, it's your father." the figure snarked.

"My father's dead, thanks. What do you want?"

He straightened. "I cannot sleep."

"You are requesting a glass of warm milk and a bedtime story?"

He could hear the man growl at him. "It appears I was roomed next to the Honeymoon Suite."

The wheels in Raoul's head began to turn. "Is it...in use?"

"Very loudly."

Ewww. "What do you want me to do? Ask them to seal their marriage quietly?"

"You idiotic Fop!"

He wagged a finger at him. "Now, now, Erik, you aren't going to get what you want that way. Perhaps you should try asking for something rather than insulting me. It may get you a better result."

The shadowy man cleared his throat, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet, almost like a child's. "May I sleep here?"

Raoul decided to take the opportunity to teach the man some manners while he was too tired to put up a fight. "There is a magic word that should go at the end."

"...Please?"

"Since you asked so nicely...on one condition."

"It's nearly morning. Can this torture not wait?"

"You have to stop calling me 'Fop'. And all those other names you keep using."

Erik yawned. "Very well. Anything if it means I can close my eyes."

"Be careful what you say," Raoul teased, moving over. Erik got into the bed and turned away from him. Within a few minutes, Raoul could hear him breathing softly. He was asleep.

If he keeps his word, it will be a good start, he thought. Though he was still tired, his mind was now awake. Christine thinks he can change. I've admitted there's a chance he can change. But he doesn't think he can change. Well, he's not certain of it.

Shouldn't he be the one trying to convince us? It seems to be the other way around. Is he only saying he will try? Could this all be the Phantom's plan? He stopped himself, remembering when Erik was going to give himself up. That was sincere. There is some good in him, down, deep inside. Yet… he doesn't seem to believe that. Christine is right, he truly sees himself as a monster. Something to be afraid of.

Something perhaps… he himself is afraid of. He thought for a moment, then decided he really needed to sleep. At least it will be a peaceful night.

Or so he thought.

 **A/N: I will apologize for the late update (computer still broken), but not for the cliffhanger. MWAHAHAHAA!**


	15. Unmasked and in Drag

**A/N: I have good news and bad news. The good news is that our dear Phantom and Viscount will be in dresses this chapter. The bad news is that I have about ten more pages of this written so I NEED TO WRITE!**

He was on the trail. He knew it! "Faster!" he yelled to his men behind him. The small team of gendarmes tried to catch up, but Alastor was much quicker, kicking his horse every minute. Since he'd left the news reporters, he'd gathered a small team of eight men and had them search high and low for the Phantom, the Viscount, and the choir girl. Alastor assumed they'd go to Belgium for a quick getaway.

He'd been correct.

This was far from his first time around the block. He knew they'd need a place to stay for the night and ordered his team to search all the Inns. When he himself came upon one that smelled particularly like rat feces and asked the woman at the desk for the Check In book, something caught his eyes.

"Gunter!" he shouted, calling the young gendarme who'd come with him. The blonde, noodle-like boy scrambled over to him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Look at this," Alastor ordered, placing a finger on the page. "What do you notice?"

The boy looked down and squinted. "That, uh… Gerard is a much manlier name than Henri?"

"No, you fool!" He whacked the blonde upside the head. "Look at the last names. Butler, Babineaux, and Beaumont. All B's. Doesn't that seem a bit...coincidental?"

"Er...yes, sir."

He rolled his eyes. This boy was too much of a suck up to really understand things. Alastor continued anyhow, reaching into his breast pocket for the folded paper. "Well, I have a hunch that if I compare these names to the piece of music I found in the Phantom's lair, the handwriting will look rather similar." He unfolded the paper and placed it next to the page. It was a sheet of a _Don Juan Triumphant_ song the Phantom had decided to cut out from the opera. "Look at that." He grinned. "They're exactly the same. He's slipped." The paper was folded back up and turned to the boy. "Not such a genius after all, hmm?"

"If you're looking for those three that came in the other day," the woman said, puffing a cigar. "They were heading to Germany."

This day was getting better and better! "Did they say why?"

"Yeah. Somethin' bout gettin' on a boat to America."

He took her hand and kissed it, though it smelled of rat poisons. Gunter gagged next to him. _"Merci, Mademoiselle."_

Now they were riding on horseback, trying to get to Germany before daybreak. They had to get on the ship before it left. "Sir," Gunter whispered, riding next to him. "Sir...why did you chose me to go with you on this case?"

"You are a rookie. You require experience out of the jailhouse."

"Yes, but...I've got...I've got phasmophobia."

"What?"

"A...a fear of ghosts."

This boy was going to be the death of him.

Raoul woke up slowly, laying on his side. He groaned a bit, sore from the hard, uncomfortable mattress. Upon opening his eyes, he nearly gasped. Erik was lying next to him on his back. His deformity was in plain view the way he was sleeping. Even in the small rays of sun peeking through the curtains, Raoul could see the red, thin flesh. He'd seen it before, of course, but not so close. When the Phantom had been this close to him before, he'd been putting a noose around his throat, so that was a bit...distracting.

 _It's very swollen on this side,_ he observed. _Wearing a mask all the time probably doesn't help that. His eyebrow is hard to make out, and this part of his top lip is puffy as well. That, and there's no hair on this side of his head until a little past his ear. But other than that, it's really nothing that bad._

Erik suddenly moaned, waking. He brought his hands up to his eyes and rubbed them with his fingers. Then, he sort of felt around his face, and shot up like he'd just been stabbed in the behind. _"Damn!"_

"Whoa, whoa, what's the matter?" Raoul asked, grabbing his arm. Of course it was the obvious that Erik didn't intend to come into the room without his mask, and was now highly exposed. The Viscount decided he was tired of this.

Raoul sat up and seized his shoulders. The other man squirmed and fought him, but it seemed Erik's strength didn't kick in until after noon. "Stop, stop, just relax." Raoul recalled what had Christine told him yesterday. _If he's going to change and get a normal life, he's going to have to stop freaking out every time his face isn't covered._ Raoul eventually got him pinned onto the bed so he could get him to calm down. "Alright, enough of this. It's too early for this nonsense."

 _"_ _Nonsense?"_ he growled.

"Yes, nonsense. You've been making a mountain out of a molehill."

"I'm the most disgusting creature alive and you're preventing me from covering myself!"

"Oh, you think too highly of yourself. Monsieur."

"Get off of me before you vomit from looking at me for too long!"

"How long is too long exactly? Because I've been looking at you since before you woke up."

"I knew it! You were staring at me! Like I'm some animal on display!"

"For what I hope is the final time, I repeat you are _not_ a monster, or animal, or a creature, or whatever else you can think up. You are simply a man with a deformity. And not even a very major one. It's only half of your face."

"The face is what everyone looks at. That's what matters."

He paused for a moment, remembering something. "If you listen to nothing else I say, just listen to this. My mother used to tell my brother and I, 'Never judge people on the way they look. The body is like a house where your soul lives. Judging people by what you see is like judging people by what kind of house they live in. What's important is the person inside of it.' Who you are is what matters, Erik, not your face. You would do well to remember that."

Erik seemed to ponder this for a while, glaring at him. "Will you get off of me now?"

He grinned a bit. "What was that magic word again?"

"...Please."

"You have a way of saying please that makes it sound more like 'Dive off a cliff, fool'." Raoul told him, letting him up.

"One of my many talents."

"See, you are extremely talented. That should mean more to you than your face. You can do things I can't even imagine."

Erik snorted at this.

"What? You don't believe me?" Raoul asked, standing up. "You sell yourself short. You truly are brilliant, even if you don't use your intellect very well. Your _Don Juan_ was quite entertaining, though I admit I was trying to hate it for the sake that you made it. But the music you created honestly made me put that aside. You know, up until the part where you came out and wrapped your arms around my fiancé."

"I'm _aware_ of my talents," Erik growled. "But what good are they?"

"What do you mean?"

"I put everything I had into that opera," the man told him, rising as well. "For years and years I wrote and erased, composed and disposed, poured every ounce of energy in my body onto that paper-"

"And it received massive applause!"

 _"_ _Until,"_ he snarled. "I came out and my mask was removed. That sounded more like a horrified collective gasp, not praise. And might I add that I attempted to get many of my operas on stage, tried to convince _countless_ managers to perform them with no success? The only reason _Don Juan Triumphant_ got that far was because Firmin and Andre were afraid of me. I had to point a sword at them, had to kill someone, and had to threaten the cast just to get it on stage. After all that work." Erik glared at him, his golden eyes almost glowing. "What's the point of having talent if no one appreciates it?"

It was then that Raoul realized something very important. _He only shuns people...because people shun him. And all those things he says about himself...he picked those up from people as well. Someone had to say those things to him._

He was sucked out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. "Is Erik- er - Bernard in there with you?" Christine asked.

"Yes, dear, you can come in."

She walked in dressed in dark, men's clothes. Her chest was well-concealed, and her hair was at her shoulders. "I figured I could pin the rest of it up, and wear a hat. What do you think?"

"It looks convincing," Raoul told her, a bit saddened. He'd liked Christine's long, curly hair.

"Well, we'd better get you two ready. We don't want to miss our boat." She set the two boxes down on the bed and handed one to him. "Here, Raoul, this is your dress. Erik, why don't you slip into yours in the other room? Raoul, change in the bathroom and I'll get the makeup set up out here. Then I'll do yours, Erik. And your masks are in there as well, but let me do your eyes first."

Raoul took the box and walked into the bathroom and cringed when he took off the lid. _With all this work, this had better turn out alright._ Once he was in it, he met Christine back in the room. "You still look handsome to me," she cooed. After that, she braided his hair behind him and parted it so he had a bit of a side-bang.

"As if Phillipe doesn't mock me enough," he grumbled.

"Your brother isn't going to see you like this. Once we get off the ship, you can both change into your normal clothes. We won't be recognized in a whole new country. There. All done."

Raoul looked in the mirror on the dresser. He was wearing lipstick, mascara, blush, everything men didn't wear. What was worse was that his fiancé was seeing him this way. She left a minute later to get Erik ready, thankfully. "Pack your things, we've got to leave soon."

He nodded but didn't move from the mirror for a while. _As if people don't already believe I am a bit...odd. I'm sitting here in heels and a gown._ He sighed and put his things in a suitcase. The minute he was through, he went across the hall to rejoin the group and knocked on the door.

"Don't let him in," he heard Erik growl.

"He's going to see you like this anyhow."

"I'm sure I look just as ridiculous as you do," Raoul added.

"...Fine."

He opened the door and saw Christine brushing Erik's hair. He was wearing a longer black wig with waves and bangs. The deformity was covered by a purple mask across the bridge of his nose and some skin colored makeup. The dress he was in was a matching color. "Christine certainly seems to enjoy putting you in purple," Raoul observed.

"He looks nice in purple. It's a nice color on him."

"At least it's not as bad as yours," Erik mumbled.

Raoul looked down, eyeing the pink gown he was wearing and the white mask in his hand.

"It was the only one in your size," Christine explained. "Alright, Erik, you're all through. See, you look pretty."

"I look foolish," he countered. "I'm a grown man in a dress, high heels, and a bra stuffed with tissue paper."

"...Wait...I think your breasts are larger than mine," Raoul said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Are you honestly whining about how large our fake breasts are?"

"Only if yours are bigger. What size brassiere are you wearing?"

"I'm not doing this."

"Come on, _ladies,_ " Christine giggled, donning a fake mustache and putting a hat onto her clipped hair. "We don't want to miss the boat."

"I'm bringing this up again later."

They left the Inn without notice, got Caesar, and headed to the docks. "Come on, Caesar!" Erik ordered.

"We're going to miss it!"

They had to abandon the carriage there, having no one to bring it back to the Manor. Erik got his stallion and Raoul and Christine took the bags. They raced towards the large passenger ship, the horse's hooves thundering against the wood.

They had almost missed the ship after purchasing the tickets so late. Raoul ran up to the man standing by the boat and handed them to him, out of breath. "You nearly missed it," he growled, snatching the tickets. "And I do hope you have the brains to know that animals are not allowed on board."

Raoul saw Erik turn as white as a sheet and turn to Caesar, then to him. _He wants_ me _to do something? I don't even like the horse!_

 _But… that animal is the only thing he really loves other than music. He's the only friend he's really got besides Christine. And God knows Erik won't take another step without him. And Christine won't take another step without Erik._

 _He'd better appreciate this._

He thought fast and cleared his throat, trying to sound like a woman. To be honest, he did a good job. "Well, you see, Monsieur...we are performers. And um, this horse is part of our act. He does tricks, you see."

"You can procure another horse when you arrive in America."

"Oh, but it takes _years_ to train a horse to do what he can. And even longer to form the bond that he and my sister Evelyn share. We've got a show in America in just a few weeks. It would be impossible to train another animal in the time we have. And he's such a large part of the act."

The man eyed him - er, "her" - for a moment. "...Very well. But it must stay below deck with the luggage. And you must clean and care for it on your own. No one who works on the boat is going to care for your animal."

 _"_ _Merci,_ Monsieur." They walked onto the ship with Caesar trotting behind him.

"Good thinking, dear," Christine whispered to him.

"...Thank you."

His head snapped towards Erik, who was looking at the floor, absent-mindedly stroking his horse's nose. _I didn't have to force it out of him._

"... You're welcome."


	16. A Talk By The Ocean

"I'm sorry, Monsieur," said the man collecting tickets to the passenger ship. "I haven't seen him. One would think I'd recall a face like that."

Alastor grumbled, pocketing the sketch of the Phantom, as described by a few witnesses to his unmasking. "I have been told that he's traveling to America. Even if he's not on board, I must meet him there."

"Of course, Monsieur. In the name of the law. Although, the horses must remain behind."

He ordered one of the men to go back with them to the Paris prison while he and the others got on board. Gunter included.

* * *

They avoided all eye contact with all the other passengers. Christine went to find their rooms while Erik and Raoul went below deck to put away some extra bags and Caesar. Erik's nerves were still a bit shot just at the mere _thought_ of leaving his horse behind. As they walked down the stairs, he pet his nose as if to remind himself that he was there. He looked into his friend's eyes and grinned a bit. _People haven't been kind to you, Caesar,_ he thought. _But I'll always take care of you. I can't make those scars go away, but I can make you forget about them. Because I won't ever,_ ever _abandon you. I'll be here for you, and you'll be here for me. We shall be friends until the end._

 _I just hope you know that, Caesar._

He tied him to a metal bar and gave him some food. "I'm sorry you've got to stay down here, but we wouldn't be able to fit you in a room anyway. Don't worry, I'll come check on you every hour of the day or so." He patted the horse's shoulder and in return got a nudge on the cheek.

"I don't see why you and Christine insist on talking to him like he knows what you're saying," the Viscount said. Both of them were speaking in normal voices because no one else was around.

Erik rolled his eyes and kept looking at his horse. "I _told_ you _._ He's smart. Besides… whether he understands or not, who else was I supposed to talk to all these years?" Raoul grew quiet at this and came closer to him. "And if I'm not mistaken, it was my faithful horse who got us out of the opera catacombs."

"Yes," the man nodded. "...How did he do that, now that you mention it?"

"He needed exercise, of course. I would walk him around the tunnels, and he soon learned them. And I trained him how to get out in case of emergencies such as that."

Erik stroked Caesar's velvety ear one more time and was about to leave when the Viscount reached out to touch the horse's nose. Just as Erik predicted, Caesar lashed out, trying to bite Raoul. "Hey!" The man glared. "I was only trying to pet him."

"He doesn't want you to. He doesn't like you, if you haven't noticed."

"Well, I'm trying to extend a friendly hand."

"He doesn't trust you."

"Just like his owner it seems."

"Well can you really blame us?" he snarled.

Finally, the Viscount met his eyes. "No. I suppose I can't."

That hadn't been the response he'd expected. He hadn't expected _any_ response, to be honest. But he said nothing further as they quickly made their way back up to their rooms. The heels were pinching his toes and all Erik wanted was to get to the room and stay there for the entire trip. "How long did you say it would be until we're there?" he asked quietly, doing his best to sound female.

"Just over a week."

He cringed. _Over seven days in a dress and in the company of the Viscount. What a luxury cruise this is going to be._

The room was about eight-by-ten feet and was well furnished. It had a small dresser, a small table, and, "You've got to be _kidding_ me!" Erik growled.

"Keep your voice low. There's supposed to be two _women_ in this room. If someone were to hear a man shouting in it-"

"Oh, no one knows who's in what room. _Look."_ He pointed an accusing finger at the one bed in the room. "I am _not_ sleeping next to you again. Not for a whole week!"

"Erik, there won't be enough room in here for a second bed. I don't enjoy sharing a bed with you either. Sometimes I think you may try to smother me. But there's no way around it."

"Then I'll sleep on that sofa."

"Which will murder your back."

"Then...then...grr!"

"Calm yourself before your temper boils over. Just think, once this is all over, you'll never have to share a bed with anyone again."

"... _Fine,"_ he grumbled, sitting on the furniture in question. "But you'd better stop that damned snoring."

"What do you want me to do? Hold my breath all night?"

He ignored him, staring out the window. The boat was now leaving the docks and heading into the open ocean. Erik had never seen such a sight, besides in books. The water was a bit agitated, but the sunlight made it sparkle and gleam still. Thought the view was ruined when the Viscount came to sit next to him.

"It's nice," he began. "The ocean."

 _If I ignore him, he'll go away._

"Seeing something so big makes you realize how small you and your problems are," the man mused. "So...have any idea on what you're going to do after all this mess?"

"What's it to you?" he snapped.

"There's no need to be that way. I'm only trying to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Well, we're going to be around each other for a while now. Should we not try to make the best of it?"

Erik grumbled to himself. Why would this man not leave him be?

"Look," Raoul began. "We've got to tolerate each other for over a week. We can either keep on arguing and driving each other mad, all the while doing the same to Christine, or we can try to put the past behind us and be civilized until we get to America. It's up to you."

He finally turned to him. "Christine put you up to this, didn't she?"

"Somewhat. Naturally, she wants us to get along. She's not one for conflict."

"Maybe I don't want to get along with you."

The Viscount sighed. "Must you make everything so difficult? I'm trying to act like a man and let bygones be bygones."

"You're trying to be a man, yet you're in a dress."

"As are you. Perhaps it's time you stop trying to shut the rest of the world out and let someone other than Christine into your life. If only for a week or so." Erik turned away. "You trust me just as easily as your horse does. Really, what's so bad about being civil with me?"

"What's so bad is that I cannot stand you! You stole the love of my life!"

"Once again, I did not _steal_ her. I merely showed up to become patron to the Opera Populaire. In fact, I probably would've never noticed her had she not gotten out of the chorus and starred in…. _Hannibal..._ "

His eyes suddenly widened and he grew paler. "What's your problem?" Erik snarled.

"... It was you."

"If you insist on talking to me, at least do your best to say things that make sense."

" _You_ brought us together! You're the reason I found Christine again!"

"Have you taken any unprescribed medications lately? I'm the one who tried to do everything conceivable to keep you apart so _I_ could have her!"

"But _you're_ the reason she got the part in _Hannibal_ in the first place! _You_ were the one who'd given her voice lessons." Erik's eyes started to widen as he started to realize that the man was correct. "You dropped the set on Carlotta so the role would open up for her."

"I was trying to get that _toad_ out of my opera house! Not play _matchmaker!"_

"Even though you did it unintentionally, you did it!"

He clamped his hands over his ears. "I'm not listening! La la la la la la la!"

"And by doing so, you made her very noticeable to a certain Viscount watching the show. Erik, I can't believe I'm saying this, but it seems I have _you_ to thank for my relationship!"

"La la la la la la!"

"Alright, alright, I'm finished. But you must admit, when you think of it that way, it's quite strange how everything played out."

Erik crossed his arms across his chest like a brooding child. "Just because I have somewhat accepted your engagement does _not_ mean I like it."

"So I don't have the Phantom's blessing?"

Erik had his arms around Raoul's throat before he could blink. "Listen closely," he hissed. "If you ever hurt her, if you even _think_ of breaking her heart, or so much as _glance_ at another woman that isn't your mother, I'll know. And believe me when I tell you that I shall not rest until I've hunted you down. And when I find you, oh, you will wish I'd let you hang in the catacombs. Am I clear?"

The Viscount was turning a bit purple. "You don't have to worry about-"

 _"Answer me!"_

"Yes, yes, I understand. Now let me _go._ " He tore Erik's hands away from his neck.

Erik returned to his position and looked back out to the water. "... How did you end up meeting her anyhow?"

"You just stopped choking me and now you want to know how I met my bride-to-be?"

"I stopped, did I not? And if you wish for me to be more tolerable of your relationship, I should at least know its basis."

"... Fine. But you are not allowed to laugh, make fun of it, fake vomit, vomit for real, or make gagging noises."

"You really can't stop me if I feel the need to vomit, you know."

"It was a long time ago," he began. "My family was vacationing in Northern France for the summer…"

 **A/N: I'm really sorry for the late update. I have no computer of my own yet, and I needed to write more of the story before posting any more. And for the cliffhanger. But the next chapter is so cute, it needs to be by itself. And it would've made this chapter like HUGE. Oh no, with Alastor on the same ship with his men, how will out three protagonists (and Caesar) make it out of this? :o**


	17. The Beginning of It All

**A/N: SOOOO sorry, I thought I had posted this already.**

"Come on, Philippe, let's go out and explore!" said the young Viscount.

"Go away, Raoul," his older brother scoffed.

"But I want to go by the water ."

"Then go by yourself."

The little boy frowned. He stared at Philippe, pleading. His brother had short, choppy blonde hair, very faint freckles that seemed to go away more as time went by, a hard forehead, and cold eyes. _They didn't used to be so cold,_ Raoul thought.

"Stare all you want, I'm not going with you. I'm too old for your little kid games and little adventures that you like to go on," Philippe snarled.

Raoul's boyish temper flared. "Fine! I'll go alone!"

"Good! I'll get some peace!"

So the young Viscount stomped off down to the beach. He didn't understand why his brother suddenly got so distant from him. When they were younger, they'd played together all the time. They used to be very close. But Philippe was five years older than him. He'd grown up into more mature things while Raoul still enjoyed what were now called "little kids games".

As he walked down to the sandy beach, away from the summer home his family was in, he realized he was really trying to be angry with Philippe. _Making me go exploring all by myself,_ he grumbled internally. _You_ never _get too old for an adventure._

But to be honest, he was more lonely than angry. Philippe was not just his brother, but his friend.

His only friend, really.

Well, apart from Pierre, his trusty stuffed bear, who was tucked under his arm as he got closer to the sand. "At least I don't have to play all by myself." Raoul smiled.

The water was calm with only a few waves. It glistened in the sunlight. There were birds flying overhead, a fish flipped out of water and back in with a splash, and a small girl was sitting near the shore, making a small sand castle. She had curled, chocolate hair that was tied back in a blue ribbon, fair skin, a white dress, and a small red scarf tied around her neck.

Raoul stood far out of sight, wondering if maybe he should see if he could play with her. But… he was a little shy. _What if she says no?_ he wondered. And he'd never really been around girls a lot. Only when his cousins came over and they always wanted to play dress up and braid each other's hair. He watched her for a minute as she sang quietly to herself. She had a very sweet sound to her. It made Raoul feel a bit more confident. But he was still hesitant. _I really wish Philippe was here,_ he thought. _That way he could go talk to her first and see if she's nice, and introduce me._

He watched as she took a stick, stuck it in the top of her castle, then removed her scarf and tied it around the stick as a flag. She nodded approvingly. But the tide came in and with it, a large wave. It quickly washed away her structure, taking the flag into the water. "My scarf!" she shrieked. She chased it, barefoot, into the water, but it was much too far out now. And it seemed she didn't want to soak her dress. Frowning, the girl went back to the shore, collected her shoes, and began to walk to a small house not far away.

Raoul sat there after she'd gone. He could see the red scarf floating on the surface, and looked at Pierre. "What do you think?" No answer. "...It's not that deep. And I'm a good swimmer. ..It would be nice to get that girl her scarf back. Then maybe we could play together! Do you agree?" The bear nodded, with help from Raoul. "Alright. Stay here. I would never forgive myself if I let you get carried out to the water as well. But don't worry, I won't forget about you, Pierre."

Raoul took off his shoes and got out to the water. His father had given him lessons when he was just a baby, and since the water was very calm, it was easy to swim in. Within a few minutes, he grabbed the wet scarf and swam back to shore, grabbing his shoes and Pierre.

He walked over to the friendly looking house and quietly knocked on the door, dripping wet. Sure enough, the girl opened the door. She was a little shorter than him and had tears in her eyes. Raoul felt really down at the sight of such a sad look. He didn't like seeing her upset. He didn't know why, but he just really hated the look on her face.

"Who're you?" she sniffled. "I've never seen you b'fore."

"I….uh….my name's….uhh…." He blushed, embarrassed. Raoul really didn't like meeting new people. He was too shy.

"Why are you all wet?" She looked him over and her face brightened when she saw what he was holding. "My scarf! You got it for me!"

"I ummm….yes...here." He held it out and she took it, smiling, replacing it on her neck even though it was still soaking.

"Christine," called a man in the house. "Is someone at the door, sweetheart?"

"A boy, Father," she replied. "He got my scarf from the water."

"Really? Well, let him in then so he can dry off. Don't want him going back home with a cold, now do we?"

So Raoul reluctantly entered the cabin. It wasn't nearly as glamorous as the Manor, but something about it gave him a nice, warm feeling. "I'm Christine," the girl told him. "Christine Daaé. Who are you?"

"Raoul," he whispered.

"Here, come with me," She took his hand and led him up the stairs. "We'll find some towels so you don't get sick. Do you live around here? I've never seen you before."

"I...no...m-my family is here on vacation."

"That's nice. Do you have a big family? I only have my father."

"I've got my parents and my brother," he explained as she threw him a large, pink towel.

"Here, let me hold your little friend for you so you can use both hands to dry yourself." And before he could stop her, Christine snatched Pierre out of his hand.

"Give him back," Raoul ordered. "He's mine!" He didn't like the thought of this almost-stranger holding his best friend.

"Aww, she's cute." She smiled. "Does she have a name?"

"His name is Pierre, he's a _boy_ , and he's mine so give him to me!"

But still he was ignored as Christine looked over the bear. She frowned suddenly. "Aww. He's got a rip in him."

"What? No he doesn't! Let me see!" He grabbed Pierre back and was horrified at what he saw. He hadn't seen it before, but yes, there was indeed a tear in his neck. Raoul started to panic. If Pierre had a tear, it would get bigger. And if the tear got bigger, then his stuffing would come out. And if his stuffing came out, it would get everywhere. And if his stuffing got everywhere, his mother would make him throw Pierre away! And Raoul couldn't throw his friend away, he just couldn't!

His lip began to tremble and his eyes had tears in them now. "Oh, don't cry," Christine cooed. "Here, maybe I could fix him."

"H-how?" Raoul whimpered.

"Father showed me how to sew. I bet I can stitch Pierre up if you want."

He looked at her, wiping the tears away. "You can?"

"Mmm hmm. Come on, follow me. I'll get my sewing kit." She took his hand again and lead him to her bedroom. It was simple, with only a few basic toys scattered around. "Sorry, it's kind of messy. We usually don't have a lot of people over." She rummaged around a little and Raoul clutched Pierre close to him, worried that Christine couldn't fix him and he'd be thrown out by his mother. "Here it is."

She opened up a small box with a rainbow of threads in it and grabbed a tiny little needle. Raoul gasped and held his bear tighter, shaking his head. "But it's the only way to fix the rip," Christine countered. "You do want me to fix him, don't you?"

He looked at Pierre, into his friendly, bright eyes, and reluctantly handed him over. She took him gently and set him on her bed. "Thank you, Raoul. I think I'll use yellow thread so you can't see the stitches that well."

So the needle was threaded and Raoul cringed every time it poked Pierre's golden fur. But it was surprisingly over quickly. "All done," Christine smiled, and Raoul quickly took his bear back, examining his neck. He frowned.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You can still see the stitches. He looks banged up now."

Christine seemed to ponder this for a minute, then brightened. "Here, let me see him."

"Why?"

"Trust me. I have an idea."

He gave Pierre back and for some reason, she removed the blue ribbon holding her hair. Her chocolate locks spilled over her shoulders and she wrapped the ribbon around the bear's neck and tied a large bow. "There. Now you can't see them, and he looks all dressed up."

Raoul smiled. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome." She grinned. "Do you suppose you could stay awhile? It's nice having someone around other than Father."

"Well, umm… I don't know. My parents might get worried if I'm not back soon."

"Oh." She frowned. There was that face again. Why was it that he couldn't stand seeing Christine Daaé sad? Little tears formed in the corners of her bright eyes and her mouth trembled a bit as she spoke. "Well, if you have to, then."

That _face_. He couldn't stand it! It was tearing his heart out! "Well...I suppose I could stay for a while. Until my clothes dry."

She lit up like a star. "Really? Hooray! What do you want to do?"

"Er...what do _you_ want to do?" _I certainly hope she doesn't want to play dress up,_ he thought.

"I have a book of poems. Father gave it to me for my last birthday. Would you like to read some with me?"

"All right."

She got a thick book off her cluttered shelf and sat on the bed, inviting him to do the same. "All right, first page. You read this one, I'll do the next one. Okay?"

Raoul took the book on his lap and began to read. "'Little Lotte let her mind wander…'"

 **A/N: Anyone else see the irony of Raoul hoping Christine doesn't like dress up? Think back to the present situation and whose idea it was. I swear, that was totally accidental. :D**


	18. A First Time For Everything

"And I would visit her every summer after that until her father passed."

"So that is why you continue to call her that," Erik grumbled.

"That's why. And Pierre still wears her hair tie today."

He snorted. "I've never seen the appeal to stuffed toys. They don't do anything."

"They don't have to. That's the point. _You_ do something with _them_. And young children like to think they keep nightmares away."

"That's preposterous. Nothing can keep nightmares away. They come as they please."

"But it's nice to wake up to their smiling faces after one."

"Yes, so comforting to have something stare at you as you sleep."

"Surely you must have had a favorite toy?"

"I didn't have much of a childhood. I had one single toy and my music box. And I had to leave the toy behind."

"What was it?"

"A clapping monkey. Though you had to make the hands clap."

"You seem to really like monkeys. I noticed there was one on your music box as well."

"It's not that I like them, just that I seem to only get them."

"Then what animal do you like?"

"I don't have much experience with any of them. Apart from Caesar."

"...You know… I think this is the first conversation we've had that didn't have screaming somewhere in it."

"Don't think this means I don't hate you."

"Can't we put that in the past?"

 _"_ _No._ I hate everything about you and I always will."

"Why? I thought you were starting to accept my relationship with Christine."

"I am. But that's still fueling my want to throw you overboard."

"I don't understand."

Erik continued to stare at the water even though the Viscount was trying to look in his eyes. "Let's compare then, shall we? You're first meeting was Christine was innocent. You were children playing games. You gained each other's trust and became friends. _My_ first meeting with her was based on deception. I lied to her, told her I was the Angel sent by her father, and tricked her. That's much different from sewing up toy bears.

"You are a rich Viscount who's loved by the public. I am a criminal and all the money I have, I obtained illegally. Not to mention, I'm shunned by the public. You can give her a life of luxury. I can give her a life of constantly running from the law. You are an attractive man, and I'm a deformed freak. You can give her a family full of beautiful children. Any child I had with her would likely have my face.

"No matter how much I care about her, you can do better and give her better. _That_ is why I hate you."

They sat in quiet again. The sea churned and the boat rocked a bit. Then it began to calm again. Erik felt Raoul's weight leave the bed and began to relax once more. _Finally, I'll get some peace._ But it didn't last long for he soon returned, holding something. "Here," he said, holding it out.

Erik glared at the folded piece of paper and snatched it. "What's this?"

"What you requested."

"You wrote a suicide note that quickly? Mon Dieu, not much for last words, are you?"

"Just open it before I throw it overboard." He growled an unfolded the paper. "It's my brother's address. Christine mentioned that you'd be communicating through letters from now on."

Erik looked at the note, surprised. His first instinct was to believe that the Viscount was tricking him. _This is obviously a fake address. He'd just trying to appease his bride and pacify me until we get off this boat. I bet if I actually tried to use this, I'd get a reply from some lonely old widow wondering if I'd perhaps found one of her many cats that got out._ "Why should I believe this is real?"

He sighed. "Why do you think it wouldn't be?"

"Because you have no reason to want me to communicate with your fiance."

"Actually I do: She wants to talk to you, and having her in your life will keep you from breaking laws...you are going to stop doing that, right?"

"For the last time, I've given Christine my word not to kill anyone unless my own life is at stake."

"You're crimes weren't limited to murder. What about the exploitation? You threatened countless managers for money."

"If they would've done what I asked, I wouldn't have threatened them. Then they would've had no problem paying me because I'd be contributing to the Populaire."

"Why exactly would they take your suggestions when they didn't even know who you were?"

"Because one: They wouldn't have listened to me at all had they known who I was, and two: I'd lived under the opera house for decades, so I think it's safe to say that I know a _little_ more about the arts then Firmin and Andre, who just got out of the _junk business."_

"Scrap metal."

"It makes no difference. They still had no idea what they were doing. I, however, did. And may I point out that I didn't begin by threatening them? My first letter was to welcome to the Populaire. All I asked was for them to leave me my Box and to pay me my salary for the sake that I was assisting them with management duties."

"Twenty. Thousand. Francs."

"Oh, take a swim, Viscount. If you must know, I won't be continuing to do what you consider _exploiting._ I have enough money for a large amount of time." _I suppose I could find a suitable house after lying low for a while,_ he pondered. _Then I could just stay there unless it was absolutely necessary to come out for some reason. Like food. Or obnoxious children playing in my yard._

"You could find some other carre-"

Erik didn't allow him to finish. "What are you suggesting I do? Get an _ordinary_ job? Yes, let me just walk up to a potential employer, 'Hello, I'm an illegal immigrant to this country, I'm hiding from the law, have a tendency to threaten people, possess a horrible temper, and have never worked legally all my life.' Brilliant, Viscount! Why didn't I think of that?" Raoul opened his mouth, but closed it as he realized that that was indeed, an idiotic suggestion.

"So you're just going to stay hidden once again?" Raoul asked after a minute. "Away from people?"

"You have a problem with that?"

"Well, it just… doesn't seem like much of a life. If anything, it's an extremely lonely one."

He snarled. The man was really beginning to anger him now. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly publicly accepted."

"But this is a new start. You could keep the mask on and just try to integrate yourself into society. America is supposed to be _full_ of-"

"Freaks?" he growled.

"I was going to say 'oddballs'. Who knows? You could meet other people who share your...condition. You might make some friends. Ones that aren't horses."

That earned a snort. "What good are they?"

"Christine is your friend."

"Only because she feels sorry for me." Not that Erik didn't appreciate her kindness and care, but he knew it was only because she pitied him.

"Well, friends are there for you. They support you when you're going through something, or when you've had a bad day. Friends are people who care about you, and who you care about. They make you happy."

"People like me don't deserve to be happy."

The Viscount let out an exhausted sigh. _He's getting sick of me. About time. Maybe now he'll leave me alone._ Sure enough, his weight left the bed as he stood. "I'm going to find Christine and get something to eat. If you feel like joining us, then you're welcome to." Erik watched out of the corner of his eye as the man dressed as a woman walked towards the door. He paused before opening it, but didn't look back in his direction. "You know...perhaps if you stopped pushing people away for a minute or so, you might find that there are people in the world who would accept your company."

He waited until Raoul left the room, the door shutting behind him, thinking about what he said.

Was it true?

Could there really be people who would treat him like a regular person? People who would look at his face without fear?

All his life, the only people who'd even been that way were the Girys and Christine. Everyone else, even his own mother, regarded him as a demon or monster. He thought again for a moment, then shook his head. _No. The world is not like that. No matter when I go, who I'm with, I shall always be met with hatred and disgust. That is simply the way things are, and he's a fool to think otherwise._

He laid down on the bed and kicked off the accursed heels. Once again, he returned himself to his solitude and exile. These were the things he'd known all his life. Being alone, avoiding people, that was what he deemed "normal".

And secretly...he hated it.

He would love to be socially accepted, to be able to have a _real job,_ money he obtained legally, to have _friends._ But those things just...could not be.

Not in France. Not in America. Not anywhere.


	19. Girys and the Head Gendarme

**Hello, everyone! I am terribly sorry for such a long hiatus! I was really shocked to see how long it had been since I updated. I appreciate all the kind words and reviews for this story. I am still not totally happy with it, but thanks to all the support, I decided that I've gone too far to simple crumple it up and toss it out. It needs to be finished. So, even though I am still trying to work out Monsieur Mauvis and a few plot issues, I am NOT going to let this fic go. While I write, I'll try to update somewhat regularly. Here's a chapter to thank you for everything you've done! Finally, we see what the Giry's have been doing all this time...**

It was one of the few times Madame Giry had her hair down. Not in any sort of braid, or even brushed all that much, honestly. Just down, like it no longer mattered. Nothing really seemed to at the moment.

Then again, your appearance doesn't really matter much when you're in your home all day. And in her small apartment was where Antoinette and her daughter Meg had been since the Opera Populaire burned to the ground. They were lucky to find somewhere to live on such short notice. The Populaire had been their workplace _and_ their home.

Their new "house" was cramped, small and disheveled. On the second night Meg found a _dead rat_ under her bed. But it was all they could find, and with no job, really all they could afford. The condition of the apartment wasn't what had the Madame in such a dreary mood though.

She had been very lucky to escape the burning Opera house, but not lucky enough to escape the suspicions of the law. An unnerving gentleman by the name of Alastor Mauvis had tracked her down and asked many questions: How did she know the Phantom? Did she know about his plans? Where was he going? Madame Giry was a decent liar, but couldn't deny the evidence that proved she had known the Phantom more than the others at the Populaire. After all, she was the one all of his notes went through.

She'd had to think fast. If the gendarmes knew how close she was to Erik, they would surely have her arrested. And where would that had left Meg? Her daughter would've ended up on the streets with no money or family left. So for she sake of her child, Madame Giry did one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do: she blamed it all on the Phantom. She told him that she'd had no knowledge of the burning of the opera house or the murders, which she truly hadn't. She then had to go on and lie, saying that yes, she'd delivered the Phantom's notes, but out of pure fear. She told him that he'd threatened her and Meg, told her he'd hurt her daughter if he didn't do as he told her. Then she'd gone on to explain that she truly had no clue where he'd gone or what he was going to do next.

The men had accepted that answer and written the Madame off as a mother just trying to keep her child safe. Yet now she sat in her living area, if what they were doing could be called _living,_ feeling horribly guilty. _Where are you?,_ she asked Erik internally. _What did that mob do to you? I know I should've never led the Viscount to you, but you were frightening me. You had taken Christine and the opera house was on fire! I did not know what to do. Yet to you, it must seem like I betrayed you._

 _And I have yet again. Now if you're caught, they will hold my lies against you. I never wanted this to happen, Erik,_ she told no one again. In that moment, an old memory came to life again. She recalled day she had rescued Erik from the cruel gypsies and taken him to the catacombs. He had been so thin and covered in dirt. Madame Giry wondered still how people could be so wicked.

 _All I wanted was to try to give you a better life. One where you did not have to be afraid or alone. I just wanted to make you happy, my friend. Now I don't even know if you're alive. And if you are, I'm not sure if this world will ever allow you to have joy in your life._

 _I'm sorry, Erik._ Madame Giry had lost track of how many times she had said that in the last few days. But her silence was suddenly broken by Meg's scream from the other room.

Madame Giry shot up from the sofa and rushed to her daughter. She found her scrambling around with a rolled up newspaper, frantic. "Where did it go? It was huge!"

"What is it? What is wrong?"

"There was a _huge_ bug crawling around here!"

 _Oh, Mon Dieu, girl,_ she thought, exhaustedly. Madame Giry saw a large brown blob crawling on the floor and crushed it with her shoe. "I got it, Meg. It is dead now."

The young blonde looked at her as some color returned to her face. "Oh...good. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It is alright," Madame Giry told her, turning to the other room. "While you are in there, see what we have for su-"

" _Mother!"_

She really wasn't in the mood for Meg's phobias. "What is it now? I told you I squashed the-"

"I found him! He's alive, Mother, _alive!_ "

It took her a moment to realize what Meg was going on about, but when she did, Madame Giry ran back to her. "Erik?" she asked, daring to hope just a little.

Her daughter was scanning the front of the newspaper she'd been holding with wide eyes."Look, it's right here! That Mauvis character says he found footprints under the Opera house. He thinks they're Christine's and the Viscount's!"

Madame Giry took the paper and skimmed the article. "The Viscount? What's he doing with him?"

"They must be helping him. Oh, I should've known Christine would never leave Erik that way."

"Yes, but the Viscount as well? He and Erik _hate_ each other. They could barely look at each other for a second before someone drew their sword!"

"I don't know what they're doing, but at least we know they're all alright."

"Unless the gendarmes catch up to them. Then they are all either in jail for life or dead."

Meg stood there for a moment in thought. "Well...Erik always finds a way out, doesn't he? And they'll help him. If they work together, they may make it to...wherever they are going."

"...Yes, Meg, I suppose we will just have to hope. And be thankful that they are all safe and alive." _For now at least._

Madame Giry set the paper down and felt a weight leave her as she did. Erik, her dear friend, was alive and free. And Christine as well, who was like a second child to her. At least for that moment, there was a bit of peace.

"Mother?" Meg asked. "Do you...do you suppose we will ever see Erik again?"

She paused. She knew that Erik was like an older brother to Meg. A slightly mentally unstable one, but one that would do anything to protect her. "I do not know, Meg. Most likely he will have to hide for many years if they manage to evade the law. But...we must hope. Without the smallest candle of hope, the world is as dark and bleak as the opera catacombs."

* * *

Erik never joined Christine and Raoul, and frankly, the Viscount-in-drag didn't mind at all. He'd tried to do as Christine asked, tried to put the past behind and be civil, but Erik had shut him out. "He doesn't trust anyone but you," Raoul explained, keeping his voice low. He and Chri- er- Monsieur Gustave were walking back to their rooms. "I really don't think he ever will."

"He's afraid," she replied, also in a whisper. Monsieur Gustave was supposed to be mute. Thankfully, no one was around to hear them anyhow. Most people on the ship either stuck to their rooms or enjoying some of the accommodations: the conversation rooms, smoking rooms, saloons, things of that nature. "Something must've happened to him early in life to make him so isolated. Who could have hurt him so much that he won't let anyone else in?"

"I have no idea. But whoever they were, they certainly affected him."

"It's quite sad," she frowned. "I wonder what would have happened if he were treated differently when he was younger. I know nearly nothing about his childhood, but it can't have been good. Most trauma occurs in childhood. He could've grown to be a very renowned opera singer. Or an actor. Or playwright, magician-"

"Horse trainer, wedding gown creator," Raoul added jokingly.

"He could've done anything. But that deformity of his ruined it all. It really is quite sad."

Raoul found he couldn't argue that. Like he'd told Erik himself, he was a very talented person. It was quite a shame nothing came of it.

They parted ways as Christine went down a different hall. They weren't able to find rooms close to each other on such short notice. Raoul walked along as best as he could in the dress, occasionally tripping over the hem. _She's right,_ he thought. _His life could've turned out much different without that face of his. He could've been rich and famous. Rich with money he actually earned. Women would be following him around._ Raoul had to admit, beyond his face, Erik certainly wasn't ugly. _He may have even gotten Christine._ The thought consumed his mind to the point where he didn't see the man turn a corner in front of him and they collided.

Raoul fell backwards, losing balance in his shoes. "Mon Dieu!" the man exclaimed, clearly a Frenchman. "My sincerest apologies, my dear. Here, let me assist you."

"Oh, no don't worry," 'Rose' told him in a female voice. "Accidents happen."

"You're from France," he observed, assisting Raoul up anyway.

" _Oui."_ Raoul really wanted to get away from this man. He had a bad feeling. And the large scar on his face wasn't really helping. "Well, um, I'm terribly sorry for bumping into you, Monsieur. Lost in thought. But if you would excuse me, I have to go and find my sister." For some reason, he mentally kicked himself for mentioning Erik.

"Of course, of course. I don't want to keep you. However, may I have your name, fair mademoiselle?"

"Er… Rose. Rose Gervais."

"A pleasure to meet you," he said with a chilling smile. "I'm Alastor Mauvis."

That name made alarm bells go off in his head. _Mauvis… Mauvis… the head gendarme! He followed us all the way onto the boat?! How?_ It quickly occurred to him that that didn't matter at the moment. He needed to tell Erik and Christine. _Quickly._ "Nice to make your acquaintance, Monsieur, but I really must be in my way."

"Of course. Perhaps we will meet up again."

 _What did he mean by that? Is he onto me? Could he see through the disguise?_ Raoul didn't know as he quickly headed down the stairs, but he knew this wasn't going to be anything near a relaxing trip. He found the room and rushed inside. By this time, he was panicked.

When he got inside, Erik seemed to be sleeping again in the bed, still in the dress. Raoul seized him by the shoulders and shook him, frantic. "Erik, get up, Mau-" He couldn't complete the sentence though, what with Erik's hand suddenly around his neck.

"Don't. Do that. Again," he growled. "Unless you want to be thrown off of a moving boat into what I hope are shark infested waters. Now what could _possibly_ be going on for you to feel the need to shake me like a rag doll?"

He got Erik's hand off his throat. "Mauvis is on the ship."

"Who?"

" _Alastor_ Mauvis."

Still just a very confused look.

"The head gendarme that's chasing us? Ringing any bells now?"

Erik visibly paled. "In that case we should take our chances with the sharks. Did he see you?"

"Well...You could say that."

"Mon Dieu, what did you do now?"

Raoul sheepishly explained the encounter, hoping Erik wouldn't strangle him when he was through. "Do you think he's suspicious?"

"Hmm… no, not at the moment. But we need to avoid him at all costs."

"I'm going to go tell Christine. I'll be right back."

"We're either going to die on this damn boat or walk out in handcuffs."

"Good to see you're still optimistic."

A few minutes later the three of them were all together in Erik and Raoul's room. "We need to be _extremely_ careful now," she agreed. "If he figures out who we are, we're doomed."

"And we don't even know how many men he has with him," Raoul added.

"Well in that case, I'm not leaving this room," Erik stated.

"And just how do you plan on getting food if you do that?"

"I would rather starve than risk going to prison."

"Erik, you have to go out at some point. You need food and will eventually have to…relieve yourself," Christine pointed out. "And what about Caesar, hm? You and Raoul just stay together whenever you leave."

"And if we're caught?"

"... Um…. We…. Jump overboard?"

"Erik's convinced the water is full of sharks. And I don't think we can get a horse into the ocean," Raoul added. "We just have to do our best to not give him a reason to be suspicious of us."

"We're a couple of cross dressing men in masks in the middle of the ocean."

"Erik, you're just going to have to do your best if you want to get out of this."

"...Very well."

"We just have to work together and look out for one another. That's the only way this can end well", Christine concluded.

* * *

Alastor should've been focused on finding the Phantom.

He knew he was heading to America. He knew the Viscount and chorus girl were with him. He should have been focused on finding them. He should've been trying to figure out where they were going once in the new country.

But for some reason, he couldn't focus on any of that. All he could do was pick absent-mindedly at his lunch and visualize. Visualize those beautiful blue eyes as clear as the ocean itself. That tall, well built frame. The dark brown, silky, braided hair. Those thin, shining lips…

Alastor should've been focused on finding the Phantom. But all he could think of was Rose Gervais. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.


	20. The Debut of Evelyn and Rose Gervais

"Erik, you've got to eat _something,"_ Raoul told him.

"You would be surprised how long I can make it without eating, _sister,"_ he snarked. Erik recalled a few times where he would be so consumed by his music he went days without eating a single thing.

"That may be, but Christine certainly won't let you go a full day without food." It was the evening now, and Erik had only left the room to tend to Caesar and use the facilities.

The former Phantom knew he couldn't argue with that. "Very well. But if I trip in those _damned_ shoes, you'd better not laugh."

"Believe me, I'm struggling in them just as much as you are. I'm starting to think Christine has some sort of super power. How does she walk like this all the time?"

They started to walk down to the main dining area as best as they could. "And just what do we do if Mauvis is there?" Erik asked.

"We'll have to stay in character and hope you sound like a woman."

"I may as well just stab myself with a fork."

"Actually, that might draw attention, so perhaps you shouldn't do that."

They found Christine and walked together the rest of the way. It seemed most of the other passengers had beat them there. "Do you see anywhere to sit?" Raoul asked. The other two shook their heads. They walked forward towards the table when Erik suddenly stumbled in the heels and fell unceremoniously onto a _female passenger._

" _Mon Dieu!"_ she cried. Erik mentally cursed himself _and_ his shoes as Raoul helped him up. _So much for not drawing much attention. I may as well just take off this mask and walk up to Mauvis at this rate!_

"Oh dear, that was quite a fall," said the woman in perfect French. She was quite petite with mousy brown hair and faint freckles. "Are you alright?"

He had no clue what to do, frankly. First of all, he'd virtually fallen into this woman's lap, and her first order of business was to ask if he - or rather _she_ \- was alright. That was just strange. Second, he really didn't have a good 'female voice' in his opinion. His voice was rich and deep, definitely not the sort of sound that came from someone in a dress. And third, beyond Madame Giry, Meg, Christine, and his own mother occasionally, he'd never really… talked to a woman.

The woman misunderstood his silence and asked, "Parlez-vous Français?"*

All he could do was nod slowly like a fool, earning him a very confused look.

" _Oiu,_ we're from Paris," said Raoul in his - admittedly much better - Rose voice. "You must excuse my sister. She's very…. shy. And clumsy."

Erik shot him a glare. _We'll see who's clumsy when you "trip" overboard._

"Oh, it's alright. Accidents happen. Would you care to sit by us? It would be nice to talk to someone in my own language."

They hadn't noticed the three seats next to them in the very much crowded room. Raoul sat closest to the woman with Erik in the middle and Christine on the end. "I'm Sophie, and this is my cousin, Victoire." She gestured to the taller blonde on the other side of her who waved politely.

"A pleasure to meet you. I'm Rose, and this my younger sister, Evelyn." _Of course he has to bring up that I'm younger._ But still Erik did his best to smile and hoped he didn't look like he was going to stab Rose through the neck with a fork. "And of course, our friend Monsieur Gustave. You'll have to excuse him, he's mute you see."

"Lovely to meet some fellow Frenchmen. Most of the passengers seem to be Russian," Victoire explained. "Did you say one was shy and the other mute? You must do all the talking then."

 _Believe me, he does._

"Oh, it's quite a funny situation indeed," Raoul told her. Erik decided to let Raoul handle this and started to pick at his food. It was a gray looking meat with boiled potatoes and peas on the side. The potatoes and peas had about a _sliver_ of butter on them. _Wonderful,_ he thought, taking a bite of the flavorless meat.

While the two girls took turns chatting off Raoul's ears, Erik glanced at Christine, who was trying to figure out how to eat with a false mustache. She cringed a bit when she took a drink of water, feeling it touch past her upper lip, and Erik smirked a bit. She was such an odd girl. Oh, how it would hurt him when they parted. But for the time being, he decided that he would enjoy her company while he could. Her presence was enough.

Unfortunately it couldn't distract him from the two, er, _three_ women talking non-stop beside him. "May I ask about the um...costumes?" said Sophie.

"Well, Evelyn and I are dancers. We have a show in New York, hence our presence on this ship."

"Really? How long have you been dancing?"

 _Dear God, it's like we're being interrogated. I'm starting to appreciate the fact that I don't talk to girls. They don't shut up!_

 _The exception being Christine, of course._

Erik eyed Raoul, waiting for him to make up some half-baked answer to the woman's endless stream of questions. _This should be good._

"Oh, since we were children," Raoul told them. "We're only a year apart, so Evelyn and I did almost everything together. Back in Locronan, where we grew up, that was all we did. We used to dance outside in the yard, during the church choir, it's hard to picture us doing anything _but_ dancing. Now here we are, well known in Paris, and on our way to America."

Erik's eyes widened a bit. The man had barely hesitated before answering, yet it was detailed as if it was memorized by heart. He took a scoop of potatoes and watched with even more interest.

"It sounds like you and Evelyn have a very close bond," Sophie said.

"I've always wanted a sister," Victoire added.

 _I'll gladly give you mine,_ Erik thought.

Raoul paused and ate some food, but it was clear the girls were hooked on his storytelling. To Erik's astonishment and amusement, he provided it once again. "Yes, Evelyn and I are very close, aren't we?" Erik nodded, slowly, wondering where he was going with this. "We're both family and best friends."

Erik nearly choked on his peas.

"Things weren't always easy for the Gervais family. Our father passed when we were very young. If it wasn't for each other, I'm not quite sure what we would've done. And with mother always busy, we really only had one another to play with. That, and dancing."

"Oh, dear, that's tragic," Sophie frowned. "May I ask, what happened to Monsieur Gervais?"

 _Mon Dieu, woman, we_ just _met you! Goodness, who knew French women were so-_

"It was sickness," Raoul told them, his tone changing. Erik looked at him again and saw some of the light in the man's eyes had left. It told him that what he was saying was certainly not fiction. "We were too young to know what it was, but it wasn't quick, and it wasn't easy to watch….I would rather get off the subject, if it's all the same to you."

"Of course, of course, how insensitive of me to even ask. After all, we hardly know each other."

They talked of lighter things after that, and when Raoul was through, he excused himself and went back to the room on his own. Erik and Christine followed a few minutes after.

"The _nerve_ of that woman," Christine growled as they walked down the empty hall once again. "Asking all of those questions, and about his _fathe_ of all things. When someone says their father died, you don't ask them to elaborate! You didn't ask me how _my_ father died."

"Christine, lower your voice," Erik reminded her. "You are suppose to be _mute_ and a _man."_

"Sorry," she said quieter, "It's just that Raoul's father is a very sensitive subject with him. Even more so than it is with me, I believe."

That surprised him. He had seen first hand that Christine had not gotten over her father's death fully and still missed him dearly. "If it bothers him so, why did he mention it?"

"Well, it's not like he had all of that planned out. He was coming up with answers so suddenly, I think it just sort of slipped. Like he didn't see what he'd gotten himself into."

"I see. Not to be insensitive, but it seems you and your Viscount have that in common. Deceased fathers, that is."

"Well, now we do. Raoul's father died after mine did, so I had no idea. I was already at the Populaire, I believe. From what he told me, he died when Raoul was in his mid-teens. Some sort of illness."

"But back there he said he was too young to understand."

"The illness itself was a mystery. They didn't know what was wrong with him. Honestly, that's all he could tell me. He really doesn't like talking about it. I really wouldn't mention what he said, Erik."

Honestly, he really wasn't planning on doing so. The Viscount's sad, troubled past had nearly no effect on him. _If a dead father is the only rough patch in his lavish life, he should be thankful._ Erik's mind nearly went back to those….forbidden memories of his own past.

But he quickly shook them away as Christine bid him farewell for the night and he made his way to his own room. No, he had something else to ask the Viscount about. When he walked into the room, he found Raoul on the bed on his back, staring at the ceiling. He had changed out of the dress and shoes, now dressed in ordinary men's sleepwear. It seemed Christine hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said mentioning his father greatly bothered the Viscount. But still, it really did not matter to him. He had more important questions to ask.

Raoul didn't take his eyes off the ceiling as Erik stood by the bed. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Why did you do that? Why did you make up all that talk to those two girls?"

"I figured it would avoid suspicion. If people know more about Rose and Evelyn, then there's no reason to believe that we are anyone _but_ Rose and Evelyn. That and they wouldn't stop talking."

That made sense. "Alright. _How_ did you do that?"

Raoul finally looked at him with a very confused look. "What? Talk to people?"

"Make up everything you said that quickly. Improvisation like that takes years of practice and yet you barely hesitated."

"You know if I didn't know any better, I'd say it almost sounds like you're impressed with me."

Erik made a face and walked away. That had clearly been a mistake.

"Although, I have no clue _why_ you would be impressed," Raoul continued, sitting up. "All I did was make things up."

"And it made sense, you did not stutter, nor hesitate. It was like you wrote down our entire backstories, memorized it, the spit it out to those women." Erik wasn't quite sure why he was continuing this conversation. But some part of him just...wanted to _know._

"Well, it's not something I've practiced. It was just a natural thing. I'm a social person."

"And a frequent liar?"

"Christine said Rose and Evelyn were supposed to be close so that's what I said. I really don't see what you are getting at."

"I'm ' _getting at'_ the fact that you seem to have a natural talent that any other actor would kill for. And you don't seem to think anything of it."

Erik instantly regretted saying that as the Viscount's eyes widened. "Alright, _that_ sounded like you're impressed with me. And almost like a compliment."

"I simply wanted to know how you were able to be so convincing. Nothing more." But it was clear by the man's face that he didn't believe him.

"I see. So can you do it?"

Erik straightened. "I lived under an opera house for decades. I believe it is safe to say I am able to do anything in the realm of acting, singing, and composing. I could probably build an opera house from the bottom up if I felt like it."

"Then why are you so shocked that I can do…whatever it is you find interesting?"

"Because you _didn't_ live in an opera house. _You_ know virtually nothing about music or acting. So how can you possess this, this, natural ability of improvisation?"

Raoul shrugged. "I am as confused as you are."

Erik decided to drop the subject and changed out of the dress. Away from Raoul, of course. He wasn't going allow him to stare while he changed into his nightshirt. Hours slipped by as the two men talked very briefly about Rose and Evelyn, and soon enough, the two decided to go to sleep. But before he finally shut his eyes, Erik felt something nagging at him. It was small, but enough to tell him that it would keep him awake if he did not remedy it.

He turned over in bed and looked at Raoul, who had his back facing him. Erik could tell he wasn't asleep yet due to the lack of snoring. He sat up a little and saw the man's eyes were still open. They had lost a bit of light once again, which told Erik Raoul was once again thinking of his father.

Why did that bother him? He had no idea. _But if he doesn't stop it, I feel like I won't sleep._ Therefore, to help the situation, Erik grabbed his pillow and hit Raoul in the head.

"Ow!"

"Oh, don't be a baby. It's soft… enough."

"Why in the world did you to do that?" Raoul asked, turning around to face him.

"Because brooding and moping around is _my_ area of expertise. _Your_ job is to be the annoying sarcastic thorn in my side. So be sarcastic and go to sleep before I hit you with something harder."

And with that, Erik lay back down and went to sleep.

 **A/N: Hi! As you can see I've kinda phased out the little *s all over the place. I seem to have run out of little facts, but that means I can focus more on this CRAZY plot of mine. Also, I know I said it before that I will try to be regular with updates but I need to write some more, so...Let's see how this goes. (nervous laughter)**


	21. Marks of the Past

"It was one of the strangest things he's ever done," Raoul explained. "And what he said made absolutely no sense. I swear, Christine, Erik is getting crazier the longer we're around him."

But Christine barely heard the end of that. Her eyes were wide but not focused on much of anything. _I can't believe it,_ she thought. _All I asked was for them to be civil. I never thought…_

"Christine? Did you hear me?"

She snapped to attention. "Hmm?"

"I asked if you have any clue what possessed Erik to do that."

She grinned a little. "I think I do, dear. I think it was you."

The confused and shocked look on her fiancé's face was pure gold. "Me? What do you mean?"

"Raoul," she began, taking his hand. "Were you lying in bed thinking of your father?"

"...Perhaps."

"I thought so. Raoul, I think it's very easy to see why Erik did that. I think he did that because you were sad."

"...I'm confused. Could we start over? By Erik, you mean the man who hates every fiber of my being, correct? Because that last sentence sounded like we were talking about a _different_ Erik."

"That _was_ a different Erik, dear, don't you see? He's starting to change. His feeling towards _you_ are starting to change."

"You're scaring me very much right now."

"Raoul sit down, it's very simple." He took a seat next to her on the bed. "You were sad. Erik saw you were sad. Erik didn't like you being sad. But being Erik, he had no idea how to cheer you up. So he did the only thing he knew how to do and hit you."

"But what about what he said?"

"What he said was that he preferred Raoul, the sarcastic, annoying, pain in his butt, over Raoul, the mopey, depressed, sad sack. Don't you see? He's starting to care about you!"

"... Once again… which Erik is this?"

"Think about it. Now that you two have stopped arguing with each other, you've been pretty nice to him. Yesterday, when he fell on that woman, I bet his first thought was that you would laugh at him. But all you did was help him back up, like he was any other person. And you gave him your brother's address so we could keep in contact."

"You realize I only did that because you asked me to, don't you?"

"Well you did still did it. And I didn't tell you to get him paper, now did I? Oh, this is fantastic. Finally, he's stopped seeing you as his mortal enemy. And so have you! That's why you did those things. The past is behind you, and now you're just two men on a boat in dresses."

"You had to throw that in there."

"I'm so proud of him. Why, Raoul, by the time this trip is through, you two might even like each other."

"I think Erik would sooner give a shark a dental inspection."

"But he hit you with a pillow!"

"I don't see how that translates to caring about me."

"I don't think anyone has really cared about Erik before. No one has even cheered him up when he was down. So he doesn't know how to do it to anyone else. Hitting you with a pillow was all he really knew how to do. And it worked!"

"... It did?"

"Yes! Because I bet the rest of last night, instead of thinking about your father, you wondered 'Why did Erik just hit me?'. It worked because you stopped thinking about what was making you sad."

Raoul stared at her for about a full minute.

"He's finally starting to care about people other than me. So many doors are opening up to him now. This is phenomenal!"

"This is ridiculous."

"Do you have any other explanation?"

"Yes. He's insane."

"Raoul."

"Christine, I know we've put the past behind, but let's be logical: this man tried to kill me less than a week ago. Why would he care if I was a little upset?"

"Because he's changing, Raoul. He's becoming a better person. Someone who cares about how people other than myself feel. And I have a feeling that compared to others, you've been one of the nicest people in his life. It's really no wonder why he's starting to like you."

"...I still don't know about that. But I have no other explanation, so, there we have it then."

"Speaking of Erik, where is he?"

"Last I saw him, he was begrudgingly getting into his Evelyn outfit."

"You should go and get him then. We should head to breakfast."

As Raoul left the room, almost tripping in his shoes, Christine smiled widely. _Erik may not even realize that he's starting to like Raoul. And it's clear that Raoul has no clue that he no longer holds a grudge against the former Phantom. That's probably the best part about this._

 _Oh, men. They're so oblivious to their feelings._

 _I certainly hope I'm there at the moment they finally realize._

* * *

Four days passed with nothing much to note. They had five days left until the ship docked in New York. In those four days, none of them saw hide nor hare of Alastor Mauvis. Erik and Raoul said very little to each other except out of necessity. They kept up the Rose and Evelyn act seamlessly, being stuck in the company of Sophie and Victoire.

In the dark of that night, Erik woke up suddenly. The sun had not even begun to rise. His hands clenched and unclenched. His mind was awake and excited for some reason he didn't know. Though he'd only slept for a few hours, he felt wide awake, Erik knew there was only one explanation. His hands were itching for ink and parchment and his was awake with potential ideas.

But what to write about? Christine had become his muse, his inspiration. Considering the fact that her future husband was lying next to him, he didn't see a point in writing something like _Don Juan_ again.

Erik looked around at his surroundings for a moment before sighing. _Well, you know what they say: Write what you know._

With that, he sat up, grabbed the paper the Viscount had gotten, an ink quill, and began.

* * *

Raoul woke up slowly to the sunlight peeking through the thin curtain in the room. His ears suddenly tuned in to the sound of a quill scratching on paper with great vigor. Opening his eyes, he saw Erik lying on his stomach, writing something down on the paper Raoul purchased. "Midnight inspiration?"

But Erik didn't answer.

He sat up and picked out his dress for the day. "I certainly hope that isn't a continuation of _Don Juan_ ," he joked. Raoul figured Erik would probably throw something at him or shout in retaliation. But he still just kept writing, as if Raoul wasn't there. "Erik?"

No reaction whatsoever.

Raoul decided to test just how enthralled the man was in his work. "You're looking very nice this morning, you know? Even with that mask…What's that, Christine? You say you've changed your mind and have fallen for Erik?"

Not even _that_ got him out of his trance.

"Well, since you're so busy with your writing, I'll just go jump off the edge of the boat and drown myself. I may even be eaten by a shark. Is that alright with you? Because it would mean Christine would be all alone and vulnerable. If you have anything to say, say it now."

Erik grabbed another sheet of paper.

Raoul surrendered and walked back over to him. "What are you working on that's holding so much of your attention?" He picked up one of the papers that were already complete, but before he could read three words of it, Erik snatched it out of his hand.

" _Don't,"_ he snarled. "For one thing, it's still in an extremely early stage, and more to the point, you won't understand it."

"Was that a jab at my intelligence?"

"It was a fact."

Raoul decided it was too early to get into it with Erik. "I hope you got enough sleep. I have a feeling we won't be able to dodge Sophie and Victoire today."

"Can't we just lock them below deck?"

"As talkative as they are, we need them. If we didn't socialize with _anyone_ on this boat, people might get suspicious. And by people, I mainly mean Mauvis."

"We can lock him up as well."

Raoul rolled his eyes and got into his Rose disguise. Just as he was fixing his eye makeup - he hated the fact that he know knew how to put makeup on - he heard Erik struggling. "Damn...this... _dress!"_

"Do you need a hand?" he asked.

" _No."_ he snarled. "And turn around!"

"Erik, you know I have no intention nor _desire_ to watch you dress. However, you are clearly having trouble fastening your-"

"I said I didn't need you help!"

"Alright," Raoul threw up his hands. "Then just be stuck like that. Here, I'm facing the wall." True to his word, he'd turned away. He could hear Erik snarl and fumble with the back of the dress. _He's never going to be able to get out of it now that his temper's boiling._ He started to turn. "Erik, just let me help y-"

" _Turn around again and I shall kill you faster than a viper, I swear!"_

Raoul turned towards the wall again. Erik hadn't threatened his life the entire trip, especially not in a way where he sounded serious. His mind was racing. He'd seen them. It was only a glimpse, and they were faded, but he'd seen them. And it was very clear why Erik had gotten so furious.

Scars. All over his back - the part where the dress was undone - scars covered his skin. A sick feeling was still filling the Viscount's stomach. _There we so_ many. _I've never seen anything like it, even just for that moment._

Only then did the full weight of Madame Giry's tale hit him.

She had told him about how she'd found Erik locked in a cage, being tortured by gypsies. She said he'd been filthy, malnourished, and badly beaten. Raoul had listened to all of what she had said. But at the time, he had not been able to fully understand it. He thought he had, but seeing the scars in front of him in that moment made him think otherwise. Clearly he'd been to concerned for Christine to really hear the woman's tale.

 _Erik wasn't always this way,_ he realized. _He was a child, just like everyone else. A blank slate. He could've grown up to be anything, just like Christine said._

 _But people took that away from him._

 _They locked him away because of his face and beat him like an animal. They made him a killer. Yet his first kill was out of the sheer desire to free himself._

 _People did this. Ordinary people, just like… Like me._

 _They're…_ we're…. _the reason there ever was a Phantom of the Opera. All that time, Erik had simply been playing the part the world had cast him into._

All the pieces were finally fitting in Raoul's head.

"Finally!" Erik growled. It sounded like he'd finally figured out the dress he was struggling with. Raoul waited silently,, staring at the wall. "You may turn," the other man snarled after a moment.

He did so. Erik was in his full Evelyn outfit. Raoul hesitated to say anything: it was clear the man was already angry beyond reason. He decided to remain silent until Erik said something to him. However, Erik seemed to be staying quiet as well.

Raoul's thoughts were going a mile a minute even still, but one thing was very clear to him now: Erik needed their help.

* * *

It was official. Christine _really_ hated mustaches. Why didn't I make Monsieur Gustave clean shaven? This thing is so annoying! And it itches. Now I know why Erik and Raoul don't have any facial hair.

Her mustachioed thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. She creaked it open just a little to reveal Raoul in his dress. Christine let him in since he looked like he wanted to talk about something. "Is everything alr-" But she was cut off as he wrapped her in a tight hug.

"You were right," he told her. "You were right this entire time, and I should've listened to you. You're so smart, Christine."

"...Um….Thank you. May I ask what brought this on?"

They broke apart and their eyes met. "About Erik. You were right about Erik. Yes, he's crazy, and yes, he has some homicidal tendencies, and yes, he kidnapped you a few times and almost killed me. But all of that is a result of what the world did to him. So maybe we can…undo it? Or at least lessen it?"

She stared him for a minute, then gave him a kiss on the lips. Finally, her future husband was seeing the light. "You have no idea how good it is to hear you say that."

"I'm just not sure what we can do."

"Well, above all, he has to learn to trust. I don't know who made him think he can't put faith in others, but that's got to stop if he's even going to have a decent life. If we can get him to trust you, someone he used to hate with a burning passion, that may just be the solution."

"And just how do I do that? Every time I try to have a regular conversation with him, he pushes me away and retreats back into solitude."

"Because he's not used to that, dear. He's not used to being treated like a normal person. What you need is to… Break away the ice somehow. Make him feel more at ease around you."

"How?"

Christine had to think for a moment. "...I am not sure, actually. Use his interests so that he does not retreat into silence."

"Even then he keeps to himself. I saw him writing something on that paper I got him the other day, and when I asked about it, he shut me out once again."

"Oh, this would be so much easier if he was not so secretive. I suppose we just have to keep trying. Perhapes his own work is too important him. Start small. But do not press too hard."

"Yes, if we try too hard, it will make it worse. He would find it suspicious."

"Exactly."


	22. Rose Gervais's Date

Erik wanted nothing more in the world than for his own ears to fall off. He didn't care if it mean he could never hear his precious music again, as long as he didn't have to listen to Sophie's chatter any longer.

"And my cousin actually _went through_ with the marriage!" she told him. "Can you believe it, Evelyn? After all that."

Realizing that she was waiting for a response, he shook his head no, hoping that would be the end of it. He glanced at Raoul and Christine, who had been cornered by Victoire. They were seated in the Dining Hall again, and even though they had all finished eating, the two girls seemed determined not to let them leave.

Raoul got to his feet and looked to Erik. "I would love to hear more about your third favorite cat, Victoire," he began. "But I'm afraid we should be going. Evelyn and I have to…. fix one of our dresses. A seam popped and we're going to need it."

"Oh," Victoire said. "Well we shall see you soon then."

"Of course." His smile was about as fake as that of a mannequin. "Have a nice evening. Come along, sister dear."

 _It's about time!_ Erik gave a quick farewell wave to Sophie and followed the other two, shooting out of the chair as if he'd caught fire. "Her third favorite cat?" he whispered quietly to Raoul.

"I would rather you didn't ask."

They were on their way back to their respective rooms, when a chilling voice filled the air.

"Oh, Mademoiselle Gervais?" the man called. "A moment of your time if you would?"

Raoul froze and he and Christine did the same. _Who in the world would be...oh, Mon Dieu._

Alastor Mauvis approached them with the hint of a grin on his thin, pale lips. The sight of him made Erik's blood run cold. _Has he caught onto the charade?_

* * *

"Oh, Mademoiselle Gervais?" the man called. "A moment of your time if you would?"

Raoul's breath caught in his throat. He turned a bit to see Alastor Mauvis approaching them with a grin. _That is most certainly a bad sign._ The man walked up to him like a predator ready to play with its food.

"Oh, I am afraid now is not a good time, Monsieur. You see, Evelyn-"

"I'm sure your manager can tend to her, yes?" He glanced to Christine. Hi gaze flicked over to Erik then and stayed there for a moment. Raoul looked to the others and gave a quick nod. Whatever Mauvis wanted, it was best to get Erik away from him before he got suspicious of anything.

Alastor waited until they were out of sight. "I was wondering if you might keep me company the rest of this evening? I'd love to get to know you better."

Raoul's eyes widened. That sounded... _sincere. What is he getting at? Is he on to us and he's waiting for me to slip?_ He wanted nothing more than to get back to his room.

"I insist, my dear," Mauvis grinned, taking his pink-gloved hand. "I promise, I'll return you to your sister in one piece."

He took Raoul's arm and lead him to one of the saloon rooms onboard. _This is either an act to get me to confess, or he honestly thinks I'm a woman and wants to "get to know me better"._

 _I'm honestly not sure which is worse._

* * *

Erik crumpled up the piece of paper in his hands and tossed it on the floor. He'd changed out of the accursed dress and heels. It had been almost an hour since Christine had left him. The Viscount hadn't returned. He'd been trying to focus on his new work, but to no avail.

 _What could be keeping him?_ He wondered, gazing up at the ceiling. _What is Mauvis doing? Has he caught onto our act? Did his men capture him and are now preparing to do the same with Christine and myself?_ The thought of being once again trapped behind iron bars made a chill shoot up his spine.

 _...Or perhaps...the Viscount has told him everything._

But before the dark thoughts could further cloud his mind, Erik remembered when he'd surrendered himself in order to keep Christine safe. The Viscount had his chance to end the madness and deliver him to Mauvis himself but didn't. As much as Erik hated to admit it, the Viscount was the only reason they were on this ship.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't have some _explaining_ to do when he got back.

* * *

Raoul's leg was shaking underneath the table as he sat across the small table from Mauvis. The man was holding his hand, petting a finger. Raoul couldn't remember a time where he had been more uncomfortable. He felt like a caged animal, desperate for escape. _I need to get out of this. It's been over an hour! I'm really running out of things to say!_

"And that was how I broke my leg in the middle of a performance," he finished.

"That sounds like quite a nasty fall," the man said, looking right into his eyes. "I'm glad you healed alright, so you can continue your passion."

"Yes, it was quite a scare. You know, I really should be going. Evelyn-"

"Oh, she'll be alright. She's a big girl, isn't she? Besides...I haven't told you anything about myself."

 _And I thought this couldn't get any worse…._

"I'm from Paris. I grew up in a smaller town but moved when I was a young boy. I'm now the head gendarme in the capital of France."

Raoul feigned surprise and interest.

"I've tracked down _countless_ criminals," he continued. "From common thieves to the most notorious kidnappers in all of France. You know, the most entertaining thing about them all is that they think they're above the law. They're so smart, they're so strong, they'll never get caught. But they're no match for me, really."

It took every ounce of strength in Raoul's body to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

"A prime example is this, this Phantom of the Opera I'm after," Mauvis said. "Everyone in the opera house says he's some sort of genius. He can never be caught, he's full of tricks, he's something beyond a man, yadda, yadda. But you know something? I'm already on his trail, oh, yes. See, I had my men search the inns in Belgium. I knew he'd go to Belgium, it's the quickest way to disappear. And in one of the check-in books were three names written in the Phantom's handwriting."

Raoul felt a bit frozen. The man was overconfident, yes, but...he certainly knew what he was doing. And that just spelled bad news for himself, Erik, and Christine. "H-how did you know it was his?"

"I found a piece of music in his lair under the Opera Populaire and used it to compare. So you see, my dear? Not such a genius after all."

 _...My_ dear?

"I really do enjoy what I do, though," he continued. "The thrill of hunting down the accused, getting into their head, finding out the motive...it's all quite interesting, honestly. Some of them are a little predictable. You'll have killers who murdered their wives for being unfaithful, or perhaps the reverse, things of that nature." Before his eyes, Alastor straightened a little and got a very puzzled look. "But then there are others. Ones like this, this 'Phantom of the Opera'. He's killed at least two people. That could easily be chalked up to madness, I suppose. After all, years in isolation would take a toll on the mind. But he also kidnapped a young girl. _Twice._ Now that...that's the complex part. Why her? What did he want?"

Those words sunk deep into his mind. _Erik explained the murders of Buquet and Piangi. But...as scary as it is, Mauvis has a point. Why, of all the chorus girls, did he choose Christine? Her voice? Her beauty?_ The second he thought of the question, Raoul wanted the answer. But he knew he could never just walk up to Erik and ask. _Not if I want to live, at least._

Mauvis opens his mouth but was cut off. "Sir?" asked a younger man, approaching the two of them.

Alastor's face became stern and his tone sharper. "What, Gunter?"

"Er, I don't mean to interrupt, ummm," He glanced at Raoul for a moment. "...This. But shouldn't we be working on finding out the Phantom's next move?"

Mauvis sneered and got to his feet. Raoul did the same, almost a bit too quickly. "Since it's apparent that you aren't competent enough to do this without me, it seems I'll have to." His chilling eyes turned back to Raoul. "My sincerest apologies, Mademoiselle Gervais, but I'm afraid duty calls. I hope to see you again soon."

He gave the man a very forced smile and the two departed. Raoul watched them go, thankful he was finally out of the woods. _And I hope you fall overboard. Mon Dieu, and I thought_ Erik _gave me chills. I can't believe that just happened! He thinks I'm a woman!_

 _...I suppose I should be thankful that I'm at least a nice-looking woman…_

Raoul decided to pretend that last thought didn't exist and started to walk back to the room before anything else could happen. _Why_ did _Erik go after Christine?_ He wondered once again. _Was it simply that she was naive enough to believe his lies and he knew that? No, no, that wouldn't explain his obsession. That doesn't explain why he would choose her, fall for her. What about her brought on the kidnapping? And the_ homemade _wedding gown?_

This was one of the most frustrating questions for two reasons: One, because as hard as he tried, Raoul couldn't think up an answer. And two, the worse of the pair, because he knew he couldn't ask Erik. _I'm not even sure if_ he _would know the answer._

He finally got back to the room and opened the door. The second he closed it, a pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him against the wall. Erik's bright eyes seemed to glow.

"Where have you _been?"_ he growled.

"Oh, you know, just gallivanting around in this pretty pink dress."

"What did he want? Why in the world did it take you so long?"

"Erik, if you would allow to perhaps _move freely,_ I'll answer whatever you want. You have every right to know what happened, as does Christine-" He paused, realizing that he actually really didn't want to tell her something so embarrassing. "But there's no reason for this."

The two men locked eyes for a moment before Erik finally released him, but only took one step back. Raoul still couldn't move but decided that it was best to calm Erik's mind first to avoid further agitating things. "It was not an interrogation," he assured. He could feel blood rushing up to his cheeks as he tried to think of how to put this in a way that would be the least embarrassing. "He was, um...sincere about what he said...about getting to know me."

Erik's arms were folded firmly across his chest and he arched a brow. "Care to clarify just _what_ that might entail?"

"Mauvis seems to-"

"Be getting suspicious?"

Raoul waved his hands in front of him quickly. "No, no, no, nothing like that. The complete opposite, actually. He's bought into our disguises...a little _too_ well, it appears. You see he, um...seems to believe that I'm a woman."

"...Come again?"

He sighed, wanting to get this over a quick as possible. "Mauvis thinks I'm really a woman and he's attracted to me. All we were doing was talking. Well, he actually did most of it. I just kept making things up." Raoul waited for some sort of response but Erik only stared at him. "You were mentioned briefly, but he has no idea you're on this ship. That I'm certain of."

"...The...the head gendarme...who has tracked down and jailed thousands of brilliant criminals...believe that you are a woman."

Raoul nodded.

"...Tissue paper, a dress, a high-pitched voice, makeup, and long hair…pulled the wool over the eyes of the head gendarme."

"Yes, it seems so."

Erik blinked a few times and Raoul started to wonder if he was frozen somehow. Finally, he unfolded his hands and started to walk back to the bed. "We have nothing to fear, this man is a moron. Anyone who would be attracted to you in that get up clearly does not have enough brain cells to count to ten with."

Raoul sighed and went to grab some different clothing. "I would have come back sooner but he certainly had a lot to say. I hope you and Christine weren't worried."

"It takes a lot to worry me, Viscount."

He was about to change out of his dress when he realized something. _He always calls me that. Granted, it's much better than being called "Fop" and "Imbecile", but…_ "Erik?"

"Hmm?" By this time, he'd started rereading the stacks of paper he'd written.

"You don't have to call me that, you know."

Erik's golden eyes stopped skimming his writing and looked up. He had a bit of a confused look to him. "...What am I supposed to call you?"

The stunned Raoul for a moment. "Well...my name would work well."

Erik studied him for a moment with an unreadable expression before turning back to his work without another word. Raoul went to change out of his dress. _What in the world was that about?_ He wondered. _Does he really feel that isolated from other that he won't even use my name?_

 **A/N: Sorry, I am REALLY behind on this but I'm gonna try to get more of it done before November, NaNoWriMo.**


	23. Worries and Weddings

**A/N: Hello! I'm not dead! Let me explain: Last month I was doing NaNoWriMo, so no fanfiction allowed, only my original work. Then I jumped back into this, but the update took a while. I'm trying to really work on this story. It's been up here for, what, over a year? Yeah. Can't guarantee frequent updates, but this story will be completed. This I swear!**

 **Thanks for stickin' with me! Here's a chapter to thank you all!**

Christine walked down the ship stairs in her uncomfortable boots. Erik and Raoul were still getting ready for the day. Caesar looked at her with his bright eyes. "Hello, sweetheart," she said quietly in her own voice. She went over to him and stroked his nose. "I know, it's not easy being stuck on this cursed ship. At least you don't have to wear a false mustache." Caesar nickered as if he was laughing at her. "Oh, you're such a sweetie, Caesar. It certainly was lucky Erik found you all that time ago."

"Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear."

Surprised, she turned to see Erik approaching them. "Goodness, Erik. Even out of the opera you are still so quiet when you walk."

"I suppose it is just habit by now to walk like a ghost. Yes, _hello,_ Caesar," Erik said to the horse that was nudging his shoulder. "There is no need for jealousy. I have not forgotten about you."

She watched as Erik started to pet his horse while it ate the food, he'd given him and decided to ask a question she'd been wondering for a while. "You bring up a good point. With all those years being the Opera Ghost, I cannot help but wonder what you plan to do with life now?"

The petting paused for a moment and she could tell she had caught Erik off guard. "...I am...not certain of just what I will do when we arrive. I believe I have enough money from the Opera to last quite some time, but...beyond that I am not sure."

"Well, I am sure you can do something quite grand, really," Christine began. "You are incredibly smart, Erik, and have many talents."

"Yes, but-" He stopped abruptly and looked away.

"But what?"

"...Be honest, Christine, how much would a new country change the way things are? Who is to say that it will not just _reject_ my work and my talents just the way France did? Who is to say that people are not exactly the same _here_ as they were _there?"_ He looked down to his feet, dejected.

She thought for a moment, trying to think of the best way to explain. "Well, truthfully, I understand why you would think this way, but I do not think you should judge the world based on your life in France. In France, you killed and exploited as Monsieur _Phantom._ Here, things can be different if _you_ are different. Yes, it will not be easy, I am sure. But if you give the world a chance, you may find it do the same for you, Erik."

His head snapped up again. "And just why should I? This world has never been kind to me. Why should I make myself vulnerable? Why in the world should I give the world a second chance after the terrible things it has done to me?"

Christine moved her head to look in his eyes. "...With your way of thinking, then Raoul and I should not have helped you. No one should be given the chance to change."

His icy expression melted away.

"You are much different than when I first met you, Erik. If you can change, who is to say the world cannot?"

For a moment, the only sounds were those of the boat and Caesar's tail swishing like that of a dog. "...You are...correct…. Christine," Erik managed to say at last. "Perhaps this should be met with more of an…open mind, I suppose."

"Good. I am glad to hear you say that."

"But," he began again. _He's stopped looking me in the eyes._ "On the chance that is it not different, what shall I do?"

She opened her mouth to assuage his fears, to assure him that things would be better in America. But her voice made no sound. She could not say those things, as much as she wanted to, because she was not sure. _What if,_ she thought, _he is right? What will become of him if he cannot find a way to manage in America? How much time will his money buy?_

 _And if that happens, who will he turn to? Who will help him?_

The sound of heels coming down the stairs interrupted her thoughts. Raoul came down in his Rose outfit. "There you both are. I couldn't find you anywhere."

"You could not manage to be alone for a few minutes?" Erik asked.

"And risk running into Mauvis again? I would rather not."

The three of them walked back up the stairs, but Christine could not stop thinking about Erik's worries in America.

* * *

Alastor Mauvis was pacing around his room, talking to no one yet speaking aloud. "I have done this job for nearly two decades. I have locked away every criminal in the Paris prison. I have tracked down serial killers with no clues to their whereabouts beyond a scrap of clothing. I have become the most respected lawman in all of France.

He suddenly turned and placed both hands on the dresser, looking into the mirror on top of it, "Then _why_ can I not figure out where this Phantom has gone?" he growled. He brought his hands up to the sides of his head and dug his nails in out of frustration. "There are only three days left until this boat docks in America, counting this one. I _must_ know where he is going in that country before then or he will disappear!"

Alastor was about to beat his head into the dresser. "I have not been focusing enough. Mademoiselle Gervais is too much of a distraction. As beautiful as she is, I cannot see her again or I risk losing the Phantom." He looked at his reflection with fury. "And I have never lost anyone I was assigned to capture.

"I must find him. He has to go somewhere. But _where?_ Why America? Why New York? And if my hunch is correct that Miss Daaé and Monsieur le Vicomte are assisting this man- if one could even call this creature that- where do they plan to take him? Where would he hide?"

He thought for a moment before hitting the dresser with one hand. "I have to catch this Phantom. I _must,_ least my reputation be tarnished forever...I _will_ capture this criminal," he said, gazing into the mirror with gritting teeth. "By any means necessary."

* * *

After eating lunch- and unfortunately being stuck with Victoire and Sophie - Raoul, Erik and Christine went to their respective rooms. They hadn't seen Mauvis at all and intended to keep it that way. Knowing that they would have to go back out in a few hours or so, the only part of the outfit Erik removed was the shoes. He sat down at the small desk next to his side of the bed and began to reread what he'd already gotten down for his next work. He had the three main characters fairly taken care of. That was the easy part. But characters without a story were basically useless. And without the story, he couldn't even _begin_ to write the songs that would convey the plot.

"You're really taken with your work, aren't you?" Raoul observed. Erik merely flicked his golden eyes in his direction to make sure he was not trying to read his work before continuing. His hope was that the man would get the idea and allow him to work in silence. Of course, it was not so.

"Is that what you plan to do once we arrive? Finish whatever you are working at and try to get in on the stage?"

Erik grumbled and placed the ink quill back into the small jar of black liquid. _Clearly, I am not getting this done right now._ "As I told Christine, I have no clue as to what I'm to do when we are off this godforsaken boat."

"Well would you consider getting you work performed?"

"Of course, I would. I am not putting all this energy into it just to do nothing with it. The matter would be finding someone who would want it."

"What do you mean?" Raoul sat on the edge of the bed near Erik. "You don't think it is good enough?"

"I am certain it will be when I know what to _do_ with it."

"Ah, writer's block. The curse placed on all creativity...Perhaps I could help in some way?"

 _"_ _No."_

Raoul shrugged. "Just thought I would ask."

"Don't you have something else you could be doing?"

"Hmm...let me think."

"Be careful, you might overdo it and strain something."

"I'm on a boat in the middle of the ocean. I'm in a dress. I have you, Christine, and a horse...No, nothing comes to mind."

"Why don't you go find your new boyfriend, Mauvis?" Erik couldn't help but smirk at the disgusted face Raoul made.

"I'd rather jump overboard."

"If it would help, I will gladly throw you."

"I shall keep you posted. _Curse_ these heels," Raoul complained, kicking off his shoes. "Christine must have toes of steel. I suppose I should just be thankful that my brother won't see me like this."

"Ah, yes, your brother the Comte. I had nearly forgotten that's where you planned to live."

"For as short a time as possible if I can help it."

"Oh, dear, I do believe I'm sensing some animosity. Don't tell me the de Chagny family is not all rainbows and sunsets. Honestly, I have no clue how I shall sleep tonight knowing you two do not get along."

"If it would help, I could hit you over the head with that chair."

"Anything to ensure I don't hear your snoring."

"You know, Erik, you missed your talent. You ought to be a comedian."

On that note, Erik grabbed the quill again - though he had no clue what to write down - hoping that it would end this pointless conversation.

It didn't.

"When we were younger, we got along decently," Raoul explained, though Erik had no idea _why_ he was being subject to yet another of the man's backstories. "But after father passed, he became even more of a bossy stick in the mud than he was before. He was always right, he always knew what was best, yadda, yadda…"

"Then why not stay somewhere else?"

"Well for one thing, I don't have American money. Two, I don't have anywhere else to go. And three, I already sent him a letter saying I was coming, so there's really no way I can get out of this. I'm sure he'll be _thrilled_ to hear about my engagement," he said sarcastically.

Erik cringed. The thought of his beloved Christine marrying the Viscount still made a sour taste fill his mouth. Raoul apparently sensed the sudden tension in the air because he got to his feet and said that he would be with Christine to allow Erik to work. _Finally._

But even with the ever-so-social-Viscount out of the way, Erik couldn't regain his focus. Not now that the man had mentioned the marriage. It was reality. And now he had to face that.

 _It is not a matter of her not reciprocating my love,_ he pondered. _It was, but I knew that could never be. I believe I knew that somewhere deep inside. But why_ him?

 _He is wealthy, but Christine has never much concerned herself with monetary things. Is it just that they were friends as children? I see no other qualities. He is arrogant, dresses like he always much be noticed, and is simply boring beyond that. Not to mention he is an imbecile. She deserves so much better. More than both him and I could ever wish to give her._

 _But I suppose if Christine is happy with him, for whatever reason, that is what is most important._

With that, he returned back to his work.


End file.
